Oblivion of Lies
by JennMel
Summary: ..."You ruined my life!" There, he had said it. He had finally stopped running. Finally broken through the net of lies and secrets he had built his whole life. This is the story of Will Scarlett and his brother, Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves.
1. Prologue

Author Notes: Based on the Prince of Thieves. This story is kind of spur of the moment, coming from the fact there are not enough Will Scarlett stories that are about him and Robin, and not him and a random Mary-Sue. I'm going to write and expand each major scene for his character, and then, depending on how I feel, maybe carry on after the movie. I know this has been done before (especially the amazing piece of writing by YLJedi) but I hope this takes the idea in a new direction. This beginning's quite short, but I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing...

**Oblivion of Lies**

Prologue

All my life I have run. Kept on running, never let myself be tied down to a friend or love for too long. It's self preservation; the only way I can get through life. I found that out the hard way. Too late I realised that life was not all sun and roses, that fairy tales are lies of deluded old fools. I watched my mother waste away under the false hope of a better life, for me and for her. I watched her sit, day by day, staring listlessly out of our tiny hovel, waiting for a man who would never come. Each day she would tell me, "Today's the day, William, he'll forgive me today."

Forgive _her_? That bastard deserved my mother's forgiveness, not the other way round. When I was younger, I used to believe her. Believe the stories of a star-crossed love, seen through my mother's eyes. She would tell of how their class status had driven them apart, how the old nobleman I must call my father had desperately wanted to keep her and me, but in the end saw her naïve and pitiful _unworthy_ state of being. She actually believed that crap. My mother was more worthy than him, and by far more worthy than that rich brat half brother of mine. That cowardly man couldn't face his son's whining. He used my mother and threw her to the dogs, to be named a whore. And so I was forced to live my life a bastard son of some unknown man, and watch my mother waste away under a shroud of depression. I was ten years old when she died. Old enough to hate everything that my blood stood for.

Because you see, that's part of the problem. I hated Locksley. I hated his son. But I loathed the fact that they were still part of me, and I of them. Because however much you run, the truth is always inside you.

"Give me your name first." John, our leader, breathing hard, facing the rich man who had bested him.

"Robin of Locksley." Three words to bring my carefully constructed net of secrets crashing down.

As it turns out, you can never run far enough.

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: Please review:)


	2. The Reflection of Blood

Author Notes: Thanks for the great feedback. I really appreciate it! Hope you like the new chapter.

Chapter 1: The Reflection of Blood

Will trailed absently at the back of the group, preferring to take the responsibility to lead the horses rather than listen to John and _him_ talk and laugh at the front. Silently, Will did what he did best. He stood apart and aside, watching and observing, recording reactions and comments to determine where everyone would stand in regards to the nobleman. He used the calmness of the animals either side of him to settle his own mind; hate and fear swirling in a maelstrom around him.

The dark man from the south – Azeem, Will thought he was called – trailed at the back a few steps ahead of him, watching the nobleman's every move like a falcon, but doing it in such a way that it was almost imperceptible. Every now and again, the painted man would turn to regard Will for a second, as if he knew. It was irrational, Will knew that, of course he did, but he could not help himself when each time those dark, wise eyes met with his; he had to cast his eyes to the floor.

It wasn't fair. Will almost smiled when he heard himself sound like a petulant child, but it was honestly what he felt. For the last year, ever since he had been officially named an outlaw – not that he had been out of the law before that of course – he had finally felt as if he belonged. No longer was he a bastard child to be pitied on the edge of the village, he was the same as everyone else. Just persecuted men hiding in a forest. Now that man was here, and Will knew everything would change. Everything Robin of Locksley touched turned to ash for Will Scarlett; it would only be a matter of time.

* * *

The fire skipped and danced, flickering it's light playfully over the faces of the men. Will sat with his back against a tree at the edge of the laughing men. It was instinct; he didn't feel comfortable leaving his back exposed. Again, a stupid childish notion, but Will couldn't help it. Robin made him nervous. He made him feel out of control of his own feelings and actions.

Will blinked – he had allowed his mind to drift. Catching what Robin was saying about their ghosts of Sherwood, he felt his anger burst out in a voice too reasoned to be his own, "They've worked so far. Do you have a better idea?"

"You could always fight back." Robin flicked a piece of woodland detritus into the fire, but all Will could do was stare in shock. Was he actually being serious? Did he want to kill everyone Will had ever known? Or worse, did he think he could find a place amongst peasants?

Will felt a lump build in his throat, which he swallowed viciously down, "What does the rich son of a devil worshipper care about a bunch of outlaw peasants?"

The blind old man started howling something, but Will's eyes remained fixed on Locksley, who turned calmly to regard him and the others in the circle, "My father was no devil worshipper. And I'll have words with any man who says otherwise. But he's right. I was a rich man's son. But when I killed the Sheriff's men, I became an outlaw like you."

Anger boiled in Will as he stood up, his voice laced with venom, "You are _nothing_ like us!" He stormed away, the sudden claustrophobic atmosphere in the camp becoming unbearable. Dimly he heard John laugh it all off, but he could feel Robin's eyes burning into his back.

Everything was a blur as Will moved through camp, trying to find air to breathe. He finally came to the secluded waterfall and pool that lay a little way out of their way. He punched a tree, and felt mildly better. Or at least, the physical pain of his hand helped to overcome everything else for a moment. Softly, Will moved to the edge of the languidly rippling pool, and stared down at his distorted reflection. The unnameable pressure in his throat returned, and he kicked his reflection to scatter into watery ribbons, "You are nothing like _me!_" He spat out, before sitting heavily at the bank, feeling a marginal amount of catharsis as he managed to vent his feelings.

He didn't know how long he sat watching the night sky give the moon and the stars to its reflection in the pool, but with a jolt, Will found himself being nudged awake by a booted foot. He had fallen asleep curled on his side on the bank. One foot was half draped in the water, and with a grimace he found it to be numb and stiff. Looking up, he found himself face to face with the painted Moor of Locksley's. A hand was offered to him, which he took. "Thank you." Will murmured uncertainly, before scrambling back up the bank in the direction of the camp.

Azeem shook his head. There was something odd about that boy, make no mistake. He had come looking for some peace and quiet before sunrise and his morning prayers. Instead, it seemed, he had found a mystery. No matter. He was patient.

* * *

Will looked up at the sound of hooves hammering their way into camp. Robin, who had disappeared earlier that morning, had arrived on a white horse and deposited a sack on the ground. By the looks of it, he was getting a sharp lecture from Azeem. Then Will blinked, getting a closer look at the creature. No. No, he did not just… "Wonderful! You've stolen the Sheriff's horse?"

"You've stirred up a bloody hornet's nest now!" John growled.

Robin jumped across the carcass of a fallen tree, Will followed, determined not to let this drop, "You fool! You've started a war!"

"We're already at war!" Robin stooped to give Duncan some bread, "And I say we strike back at the very man who would take our homes, and hunt our children."

"We? You planning to join us then mate?" John asked.

"No, to lead you." Robin answered simply.

Will felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. The world dimmed out as everything kept moving but stood still at the same time. He couldn't obey this man. He wouldn't.

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: Please review!


	3. Battle of One

Author Notes: Thank you so much for taking the time to read and review my story - it makes me happy!

Chapter 2: Battle of One

"Over here!" A cry rang through the small camp. Will heard them before he saw them. A rag-tag group of peasant villagers, some faces he knew, some he didn't. All were covered in dirt, and in some cases, blood. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Locksley sitting on a fallen tree trunk; lording it above them as usual. Enough is enough. Striding over, he asked Stephan, a man he knew from his boyhood, "What's happened to you?"

"They've burned our village, all of it!" Will felt a stab of remorse. He hadn't had the happiest of childhoods, but it was the only place he could connect to his mother, "Where is this Robin Hood?"

With grim pleasure, Will pointed him out, "He's there."

Stephan yelled something, lifting his son into his arms. Will stared at the wound on the boy's head in a sick sort of wonder, before snapping out of it, "You've brought misery on us all, Locksley!"

Robin sighed, "This is Nottingham trying to divide us!"

Will almost laughed; this man was as deluded as his mother had been, and look what happened to her, "We are divided, rich boy! I'm not as blind as that old man over there. You're still trying to be lord of the manor." He turned and called to the others, "I heard today that the sheriff now values your neck at five hundred gold pieces. I say we take him in!"

"Will, do you think that the Sheriff will give everything back when I'm gone?"

Will tried to gather an argument beyond that he just wanted this man out of his life, "He'll give us the reward, and our pardons"

"Wrong. He'll stretch your necks, one by one."

Frustrated, Will snapped back, "Well, what would you have us do? Fight men on horsebacks with rocks and our bare hands?"

Robin shrugged, "If needs be." He jumped down off his perch to regard the man who seemed to hate him so much, "But with the one true weapon that escapes you, Will. Courage."

Robin began to walk away. Anger bubbled in Will. That coward dared to speak of courage? Before he knew it, he drew his knife, aiming to bury it in the arrogant noble's back. "Look out!" Wulf shouted, and then searing pain ripped though Will's hand, snapping him back to reality in sharp focus.

Confusion and disappointment radiated from Robin's eyes as Will's same eyes returned with a glare of utmost loathing, before he ran into the woods, cradling his hand.

He kept running until he reached his sanctuary of the pool and the waterfall. Not that it was much of a sanctuary anymore, seeing as Locksley had taken to coming here in the mornings. Gently, he dipped his impaled hand into the shallows, hissing as the chilled water ran around and through the wound. Breathing hard, Will waited for the water to numb it sufficiently, before breaking off the tip of the arrow. He bit his lip. This was going to hurt, he knew that.

When he had been ten, some of the local noblemen had thought it a great idea to engage into a bit of hunting. And he had been the deer. That time, the arrow had buried itself right through his shoulder, and he supposed he should be grateful that Robin had not shot to truly hurt him. Closing his eyes against the pain, Will ripped the shaft out in one smooth motion. His cry echoed around the secluded area, involuntary tears of pain gathering in his eyes. He let the water clean the wound through before applying pressure. A twig snapped behind him, and immediately, he whirled around, using his uninjured but weaker right hand to grope for a knife that wasn't there.

A small girl of about seven emerged into the clearing, blonde hair falling raggedly over her face. He recognised her as Beth – one of Fanny and John's children. Tentatively, the girl approached, "Mama says you are an arrogant idiot." Will let the surprise register on his face, "And you are to put this on the wound." Beth handed him some strips of cloth and a pouch of something, before disappearing back off into the forest without another word.

Will sighed, before following the girl's instructions. At least some people didn't still hate him – well, not completely. Fanny had always been good to him, since his mother died. It was her who suggested he go to John when he was named an outlaw.

Voices broke Will out of his thoughts. Hurriedly tying off the makeshift bandage, he moved silently so that he was hidden from view. It was Robin and Azeem. Locksley sighed, "He's not here."

Azeem didn't answer for a moment, and then, "You think he would have wanted to see you, Christian? You wounded him in both body and pride."

Robin ran a hand through his hair, "I shouldn't have reacted so quickly, he was just angry."

"Perhaps you were both just angry."

"What's that supposed to mean?

"He is the only one to properly challenge you, to not accept you."

"And that is an excuse to shoot arrows at him?"

Azeem's eyes wandered down to the water's edge where a small pouch lay next to some bloodstained cloth. Robin didn't notice, "Perhaps it would be prudent if you kept a distance from each other. I am certain the boy will want to learn to fight, but maybe you should leave that instruction up to others, no?"

Robin clasped Azeem's shoulder, "Thank you for not judging me, friend, I am sorry for my harsh words of late. It has been a stressful time." He sighed, "Perhaps we should check downriver?"

Azeem nodded a Robin strode off, before glancing into the wood where he could see Will Scarlett hiding. He bent his head in acknowledgement that he held no ill will towards him. Despite Will's actions against the life he had sworn to protect, Azeem knew that there was always more that there might seem at first.

Will watched as the men moved off. He didn't want Locksley's pity. It was he who had been foolish enough to attack a man from behind. Perhaps he was a coward. It would explain his lot in life. Will sighed. Azeem's advice had been meant for him as well – steer clear. Perhaps it was a new route to try.

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: What d'ya think?


	4. Outside Looking In

Author Notes: Thanks for the support guys, it means a lot. This chapter is dedicated to everyone who got their A Level results today...

Chapter 3: Outside Looking In

Will aimed a knife and threw it at the target, hitting slightly off centre. He smiled slightly. He liked it when he was able to practice by himself, away from unnecessary distraction – namely Robin. Will turned his head as there was a commotion up the hill. Frowning, he pulled his blade from its nesting place in the straw man and slid it back into its sheath. Two young women walked past, giggling, "Hey! What's going on?"

The first, who he knew as Mary, answered, smiling, "The raiding party has returned. Robin managed to crash one of the carriages into the lake, and then got beaten up by a Friar!" Her friend fell on her laughing, and Will couldn't help but be infected by it. He thanked them as they moved on, before making his way up camp.

Swinging himself easily up one of the ladders to the trees, Will navigated the easiest route to reach the place where the men were gathered. He dropped down lightly and controlled, as Azeem had taught them. "Woah…" It was the only sound he could form when he saw the chests of gold. He hadn't thought it was possible to have that much money in one place.

Robin, still dripping wet from his excursion into the lake, jerked his head at Will, "Help Bull with these chests will you? Seeing as you didn't bother help to get them."

Will tried to bite his tongue, but the man was insufferable. The only words they ever exchanged were poorly disguised barbs, "At least I was not bested by a man of the cloth. Tell me Locksley, what kind of raids are these that you conduct?"

Robin made to retort, but was swept up by the happy mob. Bull went with him, leaving Will to heft the chests to their storehouse in the trees one by one. To be honest, he found he didn't particularly mind. True, he felt as thought Robin was stealing from him the only friends he had, but the job he was left with was long, and it allowed him some more time alone. By this point in his life, to be alone was more nature than habit.

* * *

He could tell that the air in camp was different as soon as he returned from his morning archery practice. He preferred to do it early so as not to invite any criticism from Locksley. He was getting better at it, but still preferred knives. For some reason, every time he picked up a bow, it felt like he was accepting Robin. This feeling was made all the more prominent by it being the favourite weapon of Wulf, Locksley's little tag-along.

"She's so pretty!" Two young girls Will didn't know – their camp was so full these days it was hard to keep track - were looking up the hill to where a small group of people could be seen. Will could see their point.

On Locksley's arm was a lady of clear status, if not for the clothes and accompaniment of a handmaiden, then the simple air with which she walked gave it away. No need to ask who she was really. The only lady of status that Will knew of who would dirty herself in a forest full of peasants was the Lady Marian. A generous woman if only a quarter of the stories were true. Pity she was gripping the arm of a selfish bastard.

Will shrugged to himself, watching them move through camp. He waited for them to pass Azeem and head on towards the place where the gold was stored before moving. He had promised to help the Moor with that bizarre water contraption of his in return for a few sword lessons that afternoon. He was getting quite good with the blade, and Azeem was working to develop his skill. With one last bitter glance at Robin's back, Will moved to make himself useful.

* * *

The atmosphere had gone from easy going to electric in a manner of seconds. Fanny's screams of pain could be heard wherever you went. No one knew what was going on within the tent. All they knew was that something had gone wrong with the birth. John and Wulf could be seen sitting outside, with Tuck watching on. Azeem was doing all he could, Will knew, but that didn't help his state of mind as another scream ripped through the woods. Will squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears so that he could concentrate on his breathing. Fanny couldn't die; their lives would be empty.

Will's mind betrayed him as it maliciously began to berate him for actually being stupid enough to care about a person other than himself. Of course she's going to die, it whispered, everyone always dies. It's not Robin who's cursed – it's _you_. A particularly violent scream penetrated his ears even through his hands, and Will was forced to open his eyes. John had clearly had enough, and there was no way Wulf could have stopped his father as the man ripped his way into the small hut.

Time seemed to stretch out into eternity, until-

"My son!"

Will's head snapped up, quickly observing the scene before he allowed himself to breathe. John was far too jubilant for Fanny to be dying or dead. A wave of happiness swept over Will. Finally something had gone right.

Allowing himself to smile, Will got up and joined in the celebrations. At one point, he saw Lady Marian enjoying herself in the music and firelight. She looked quite beautiful. Well, why not? "May I have this dance?" He offered her a flower.

Robin cut across, "This Lady is spoken for." And he swept her away.

Typical. But then, they were both rich, and when it boiled down to it, that was all that ever mattered. Will made his way back down the slight decline in the ground. He wandered aimlessly, before finding himself at the entrance to Fanny's hut. He knocked tentatively, not wanting to disturb. Beth, the eldest daughter, poked her head out. She smiled before going back inside, leaving the way open for Will to follow.

Fanny and Beth were alone in the small space, save for the little bundle in Fanny's arms. She looked exhausted, and Will had to force himself to ignore the amount of blood around the place, but otherwise everything seemed well. She smiled when she realised who it was, "Come to see my new son, William?"

Will suppressed a grimace; only his mother and Fanny ever called him that. "How are you?"

Fanny rolled her eyes, "You men – a little blood and you think the world's crashing down. Meet little Michael, or Michael Little, however you will I suppose." Will smiled weakly at Fanny's dismissal of how much danger her life had been in. She continued, "Where's that rotten husband of mine, then? Still boasting about our son I suppose? You'd think he'd done it all himself!"

Will laughed softly, "Something like that."

Fanny regarded Will with scrutiny, making him squirm. She called to Beth, "Go and enjoy yourself sweetheart. It's less and less we get to have some light in our lives these days."

Will watched the girl skip gratefully out. Fanny was still watching him. He fidgeted, "What?"

"Don't you take that tone with me, boy!"

"I'm hardly a boy anymore, Fanny."

The woman raised an eyebrow, "Perhaps, perhaps not. Don't think I haven't noticed this on going feud between you and our leader."

Will grimaced, "Please don't call him that."

Fanny narrowed her eyes, "The truth will out, Scarlett. I can promise you that. I will decipher you."

Will flinched, "Why can't I just hate him for who he is?"

"Because, William Scarlett, you never do anything for sake itself. There's always a reason with you."

Will blinked in shock. Was he that obvious? He desperately hoped it was only Fanny who thought this. Giving swift congratulations on the child, Will all but fled from the suddenly constricting space.

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: Quite fast paced this one, but I wanted to skip through to reach the good stuff :) Please review!


	5. Everybody Run

Author Notes: Thanks for the ongoing support you guys are giving this sotry - it means a lot. Some of the diealogue in this chapter comes from the extended dvd, just in case you wonder.

Chapter 4: Everybody Run

Hell isn't supposed to exist on Earth. That's what makes it Hell.

That much blood…that much screaming…that much death…

Everything had crumbled in a blur of flesh, blood and bone.

They had listened to Locksley. They had fought back.

And look at what happened.

* * *

The first warning arrow put everyone on edge. Will perhaps more than others, even after it was declared to be Duncan. He hadn't been sleeping well, Fanny's words still ringing in his ears over a week later. 

And then more arrows had sailed to impact with dull thuds in the ground. Yells from above filled everyone with a sense of dread, "Over there, look!"

"On the hills!"

Will came forward to get a better look, and what he saw made his blood run cold. Fear infected the camp like the plague. "Oh God..." he murmured.

The camp was soon told what was going on by one man's terrified voice, "Celts! God help us!"

Will was feeling oddly detached, staring at the woad painted barbarians of the North. He heard Azeem mutter a prayer, "Allah be merciful…"

Someone yelled out the most sensible thing anyone could have said at that point, "To the trees! To the trees!" It might have been Bull, Will thought, but he couldn't be sure.

Will stood beside Robin, "The old fool led them straight to us." It was a simple statement of fact. They were no longer rivals. Anyone who could fight for their people were allies, even Will and Robin.

Then the Celts let out an almighty scream, and as it happens? Chaos is pretty terrifying personified.

Arrows sang through the air, electrified by the panic and fear. Will threw the two knives he kept at his belt, before switching to a sword. Everything seemed to move on instinct and adrenalin as the woodsmen struck any enemy they could get close to.

Will ran to a ladder as he sliced through the stomach of another Celt. Giving an archer room to climb up first, he scrambled up after him. A Celt tried to follow, but Will managed to dislodge the ladder, causing it to tumble back to the ground. It seemed as if they were winning, and then it was as if the hill itself had been set on fire. "No…" A voice to Will's left uttered the word; the perfect embodiment of the scene on the hill.

Fire shot around them. Will ducked down as smoking arrows narrowly missed him and the others on the platform. Yells of triumph turned to screams of pain. Dimly, he heard a cry of "Save yourselves!" Everything was falling apart as fear overtook the simple people.

One thought planted itself in Will's mind. Run. Everybody had to run before the forest burned down around their ears. Grabbing the arm of the closest person to him, Will shoved them in a direction that would lead to a way down out of the burning trees. Dear God, please let them get out of this alive…

Reaching the ground, Will found everyone fleeing in different directions. He ran full pelt towards the denser wood, fear guiding his actions. Having lost any kind of weapon, he settled for punching out a Celt who tried to kill him, only to suddenly find himself to be surrounded by Nottingham soldiers pointing crossbows, "Hold thy fire!" one man said to his companion, before nodding his head in an unspoken order.

Will found himself being grabbed roughly, his arms forced and bound behind his back. Despite the crossbow bolt in his face, he struggled and kicked, primal terror taking over his body. The butt of the crossbow struck him across the cheek, causing his head to snap backwards sharply. Dazed, Will felt himself being dragged away.

* * *

The noise had dulled to the odd moan and crying. Will found himself jostled in a large crowd as they were forced through a gate. The march from Sherwood had been confusing, especially when half light set in. No one really seemed to be able to comprehend what was going on. Will's head was pounding, dulling his actions and thoughts. A gloved hand grabbed him roughly by the hair, yanking his face into the firelight. After some exchange of words between a few men, they seemed to decide Will was in Robin's inner circle, being a long standing outlaw and all. He would have laughed, but he was too busy cursing Locksley for bringing this down on them. 

Will found himself being shoved down a narrow set of damp stone steps; the sounds coming from the door at the bottom did not sound promising. He stumbled at the last few, his shoulder impacting the wall. "Move." The guard growled, all but kicking Will into the room.

In an act of defiance, Will spat at the man, who subsequently lost his very short temper. A foot impacted Will's head, and everything went dark.

* * *

When Will came around, the view that met his eyes was incredibly confusing. It took him a moment to realise he was strung upside down. That would of course explain the rushing of blood in his ears and the burning pain at his ankles. He felt sick, but from nothing physical. The sounds of his friends' screams were sufficient enough to make him wish he was still unconscious. You had to be one twisted individual to want to be a torturer for the Sheriff of Nottingham. 

Will didn't know how long he had been hanging there, but when the door swung open, and said Sheriff flourished into the room, he realised it must have been a while, "Sorry to keep you hanging around."

Detachedly, Will thought that the opening statement confirmed everyone's suspicions about the Sheriff's state of mind.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Sheriff approach the first man, "Would you prefer pain or death?"

The man seemed confused, but defiant, "Death."

"Torture him." Will flinched. The Sheriff moved onto the next man, "What about you? Pain or death?"

"P-pain?"

"Torture him." Will squeezed his eyes shut as if that would blot out the moans of fear. "You see? It makes no difference." There was a smile in the Sheriff's voice.

"Spare me!" Another man yelled.

"Will you keep the noise down?" The Sheriff spat at one of the guards. He seemed to compose himself, "Now I have heard that Robin Hood may still be alive. Either tell me where he may be hiding, or you'll be hanged, and we'll find him anyway, and we'll do the same thing to him."

Will made up his mind in a second, "I'd like to kill him for you." Well, it was mostly the truth.

"Will, no!" Wulf yelled from below.

"So he's alive then?" The Sheriff came right up into his face. Crap, maybe improvising wasn't such a good idea.

"I'm not really sure…"

"Then why would I need _you_?"

Will forced his mind to work; it wasn't like he hadn't thought about turning that coward in a million of times, but with this evil man in his face, and being upside down, it was hard to make the words form, "Because, my Lord, if he is alive, I could get close to him. I'm one of his men; he would never suspect me."

"He knows you always hated him, traitor!" Wulf yelled with venom.

"Shut up!" Will's voice joined with the Sheriff's. Did the kid have no sense of self-preservation? Didn't he realise he would be hanged tomorrow if someone couldn't get help?

"He's a trusting fool. He'll believe me and if he doesn't, he'll kill me. And you have lost nothing." Please let me go, please let me go…

Nottingham tilted his head to regard Will properly, "If you fail, I will personally remove your lying tongue."

Will fought to keep his head, "And if I succeed, I want my freedom and the bounty on his head."

There was a sudden spark in the Sheriff's eyes that Will _really _didn't like, "The lash, I think." Will felt his stomach clench, "Sorry about that – it'll make it more convincing." He didn't sound sorry at all.

As the Sheriff swept away, the man who Will had spat at earlier moved forwards, his yellow teeth glinting in the firelight. The first strike forced the air out of his lungs, meaning the second time he had no breath to cry out with. Will shut his eyes, feeling tears run into his hair, mixing with dirt and blood. Time merged, and the only thought that remained constant was that he had to get out; he had to tell the others.

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: Please review!


	6. A Leap of Faith

Author Notes: A million apologies for the big gap in posting, but I was on holiday and so couldn't update or write much. I hope this chapter makes up for the wait. Thanks for the supportive feedback!

Chapter 5: A Leap of Faith

Will stumbled through the forest. It seemed that every root and plant was conspiring to trip him up. On the long walk to Sherwood through the night, Will had successfully retrained his injured ankles to walk. It had also given him time to think. Or, at least, try to think. Because, try as he might, he couldn't for the life of him imagine what he was going to say to whoever was alive. After all, for all he knew, it might have only been Tuck and a few of the children who had survived. The last he had seen of John and Fanny, it looked as if they were in dire trouble, and he hadn't seen Robin since the first attack. The idea that Locksley was still alive had only been revealed to him in the dungeon.

What if Robin was alive? There was no way they would believe that the Sheriff had just let him go, let alone that he had escaped. For all he knew, they might just kill him on the spot. Will's foot hooked in something, and he fell flat on his face in the dirt, causing him to cry out as the bloody welts that spidered across his body reopened. Feeling stupid at not paying attention to the ground, Will picked himself up. He had been tripped by a shield – one typical of a Norman knight. He must be getting close.

The sun was rising, shining tauntingly through the mist that gathered around the trees. It felt like he was standing at the end of the world. Drawing what strength he had left within his exhausted, sleep-deprived body, Will forced his legs to keep moving. He began to hear more noises that didn't just belong to the forest itself. An odd, repetitive thud of wood on wood, and then the mist seemed to clear as he entered a small dip in the ground. He froze. The man the Sheriff had sent him after was still alive, washing his face. Robin noticed him and rose, confusion evident, "Will? I thought that you were taken?"

"I was." Oh yeah, great answer. Now how are you going to explain yourself?

"How did you escape?" Will felt an unexplainable emotion rise up within him. How dare Locksley stand there, alive and well when their dead friends lay scattered in the dirt around them? This was just what Will had thought would happen, and it made him sick.

"Traitor!" The cry rang through the quiet wood, and Will was impacted from the side by John, who began raining down blows wherever he could reach, "I'll wring your scrawny neck! Get in there!"

Will tried to defend himself, to protect his already worn body from more harm. He stumbled and John took advantage, "Nobody escapes the Sheriff unless he's lining his bloody pockets!" How right he was. If Will didn't have a message, he probably wouldn't have fought at all. "Get a rope! Where's my son?"

"Leave him John!" Fanny tried to call back her enraged partner as Will was thrown onto the floor by a tree.

Will could feel John's hands clawing at him, stretching his torn skin. "I'll have your guts for garters you little toad!" He felt his shirt rip as John forced one of his shoulders back. He couldn't prevent the cry of pain that escaped as his wounds were laid bare. "Bugger me…" John stepped back in shock. Was he really that much of a mess? It certainly felt as if he was.

"Let him speak." It was the first time Locksley had spoken, and for the first time, Will was truly uncertain of everything he was doing. How do you tell them something as horrible as the message he had?

Will propped himself up on an elbow, wincing as the position made his wounds burn through his skin, but he would never face Locksley on his back, "I bring a message from Nottingham. Our men are to be hanged in the square at high noon tomorrow."

Fanny gasped, "And what about my boy?"

"The boy too." Fanny turned away. Will wished he could have given her a different answer, "Ten men in all. The hangings are part of the celebration for the Sheriff's marriage."

There was a pause until Bull asked, "Marriage? To whom?"

"The Lady Marian." Will watched Robin's expression. He wanted to see the look of realisation when it hit the stupid brat that while he could send peasants to their deaths, he could also hurt his little rich friends.

"He takes a bride of Royal blood." Tuck exclaimed

John held Fanny; the anger within him visibly building, "Aye, and with King Richard gone, he'll be after the bloody throne!" Will really wished they would stop stating the obvious; it was making him feel worse.

Robin took a step forwards. Will looked up at him warily. The message was delivered. Locksley would probably finish his life now, "You were to use this news to get close to me and then kill me, right Will? What are your intentions?"

Will was momentarily surprised, both a Locksley's power of deduction, and at the fact he wasn't dead after this little revelation. He pulled himself to his feet, "Well, that depends on you, Locksley." He spat out the name, anger building, "I've never trusted you, that's no secret. But what I want to know is, are you going to finish what you've started? I want to know if he's going to turn and run like the spoilt little rich boy I always took him for." Inwardly, he willed Locksley to, for once in his selfish little life, do something good.

Clear bewilderment was written over Robin's face, "Did I wrong you in another life, Will Scarlett? Where does this intolerable hatred for me come from?"

What? Why couldn't he just ignore Will and do what was best for the others? It had worked for every other time in Robin's life. Lie, Will urged his voice. Just lie – you do it all the time. He turned away from Locksley, unable to face him while desperately trying to come up with something. No. Enough. Will raised his eyes to face the man before him, "Knowing that…our father loved you more then me!"

Robin looked like Will had punched him, "Our father?"

Don't make me spell it out, his soul pleaded. But now he had said that first statement, Will found it easy to bare his soul before the man he hated, "I'm your brother, Robin of Locksley. I am the son of the woman who replaced your dead mother for a time. It's your anger that drove them apart-"

Robin cut across him in denial, "That's a lie!"

Will's mind was screaming, "It's not a lie! You ruined my life!" There, he had said it. He had finally stopped running. Finally broken through the net of lies and secrets he had built his whole life. Just breathe… "I have more reason to hate you then _anyone_. But I found myself daring to believe in you. What I want to know, brother, is will you stay with us and finish what you've started?" He broke off, voice catching and breaking with the strange term of relation that had fallen from his tongue.

The moment seemed to last an age. Will was unaware of the others around them, only able to stare at Robin, "I have a brother?" Did he say that in wonderment or disgust? Will couldn't tell. And then he found Robin's arm loop around his head, pulling him into his body, "I have a brother!"

Will was in shock. Did Robin actually not want to kill him? He felt his head being pulled back as Robin took his face in his hands, "I'll make my stand with you, side by side. Until the end." Will couldn't look him in the eyes. He just stared in blank shock. Everything was moving so fast.

"Until the end!" Bull smiled in wonder.

There was no doubt or question in John's voice, "We are all bloody in! Damn buggers!"

Will felt Robin put an arm around his shoulders and turn to Azeem. He let his forehead fall to rest on his brother's neck, "We finish this."

Azeem nodded at the conviction, glad to finally have the answers he needed. He moved away, and others followed his lead, leaving the two brothers alone. Robin turned back to Will, who found he couldn't lift his head. He curled his hands in Robin's shirt as he felt all the strength and fight leave his body. It was over. Without the hate and determination in his body, Will found it strangely hard to stay upright.

Robin seemed to sense Will's exhaustion. Gently and without a word, he helped his younger brother – a term Robin was still trying to get his head around – over to the canvas of water. Helping him to sit down, Robin started to remove Will's shirt. At this, Will began to protest weakly, "What are you-" His instinct was still to be defensive around this man.

Robin stilled him, "I need to clean your wounds, Will. They're bad, but will get worse if they get infected. Trust me, I've seen it."

Fanny came over with some clean cloth, but decided to leave the pair in peace. Robin worked in silence, gently cleaning the blood and dirt away. For his part, Will seemed to be in a half awake state of confusion. Robin knew the feeling. In the Crusades, there had been times when men had gone without sleep for days, with injuries eating away at them, only keeping going because they had a goal. And they had been supposed noblemen. Will had probably spent his whole life avoiding situations like this.

As Robin began to wrap the wounds tightly, he couldn't help the question burst out of him, "Why didn't you just tell me, Will?"

For the first time, Will managed to raise his eyes to meet Robin's. He struggled to make his mind work, but knew the man had a right to know. "Because I knew you. I knew your – our – father. I've seen noblemen, lording it over us all. I thought you would have killed me for insulting your family name."

"Even after you got to know me? Even after all this time in the woods?" Robin was shocked someone would think that of him.

Will shrugged, "It's what your father did to my mother. He threw her away. Why wouldn't you do that to me?"

Robin sighed and rested his forehead to touch his brother's. He could see Will's life and experiences in those few words. They were spoken without malice or accusation; just a simple statement of fact. The boy hadn't exactly had a great experience when it came to family. Then again, neither did Robin, so it probably made them quite a pair. "I can't say what I would have done before all this, before the Crusades and Nottingham." He paused, "But you _are_ my brother Will. And whatever the past may have written about us, that is ended. I meant what I said. We will stand together."

Will was exhausted. He was tired of everything. Of running, of fighting. He closed his eyes, the pressure of his brother's forehead touching his taking on a surreal quality. "Thank you." He murmured.

Sleep came easily after that, as the darkness washed away the pain of the past.

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: VERY nervous about writing this chapter, as it's the best scene in the movie, and it's unbelievibly hard to put into words and do it justice. Please let me know what you thought...


	7. Calm Before the Storm

Author Notes: You have no idea how glad I am that no one came after me with pitchforks after that last chapter :)

Chapter 6: Calm Before the Storm

When Will awoke, the sun was passing low over Sherwood, heralding an early morning. Had he really slept all day and night? His whole body ached, but as he remembered everything that had transpired the previous morning, he felt stronger for it. It was hard to believe that he had no secrets left. But it wasn't over yet – they still had to rescue their men and bring down the Sheriff. Struggling to sit up, Will let the thin blanket fall to his waist. His whole torso was wrapped in strips of white cloth. The wounds must have stopped bleeding, as the pain was duller than he remembered it. Will frowned, dragging his body up and pulling on his boots. He recognised this hut as his own, but he didn't recall coming here to sleep. Thinking back to earlier, he realised with shock than he must have passed out.

Will shook his head as he pulled a shirt over his head, and then his tunic. All those times of making sure he never looked weak in front of Robin, and then he goes and does that. What was even stranger was that he didn't feel particularly ashamed about it.

He left the hut, scanning the camp for the others. Robin, Bull and John were over near the main fire, while Azeem and Tuck were sitting outside the Moor's tent. Will made his way over to Robin, who smiled softly in greeting. Then a huge bang sounded from the fire outside Azeem's tent, making them all recoil instinctively. Tuck had fallen back in shock. Will grinned; maybe they had more of a chance than he thought. "Feeling better?" Robin murmured.

Will smiled in answer, and then regarded what it was that they were standing around. It took him a moment, but then he realised that it was a wooden model of Nottingham Castle. They really had been planning all day and night for this. He felt a bit guilty for sleeping so long, but, he reasoned, he wouldn't have been much help in his tired state.

They all crouched down, Will picked up a sword from the ground. Robin regarded them all for a moment, before going over their instructions again – they had about six hours before the hanging, "Bull, your positioned by the gate to cut of reinforcements. John, you'll sit on this wall to protect our escape. I will conceal myself here, below the scaffold, to cut our men loose at the signal."

Will frowned. Stupid plan for Robin to do that. He would be more use elsewhere, and besides, he was too easily recognised. That, and there was no way in a thousand hells that he was going to sit this one out, "No, I'll do that. You can cover us with your bow."

Robin shook his head, "It's too dangerous Will." He turned away as if that were an end to the matter.

Will could have laughed out loud. This whole brother thing was surreal, "So is your aim."

Laughter rippled amongst the men, and Robin looked as if he wanted to protest, but he saw the stubbornness in Will's eyes and relented, "Whatever Azeem is concocting, we must each to be in place for it. Now, our success depends on total concert, you are the only six men-"

"Seven!" The call cut across Robin, leaving no room for argument. Fanny stood above them, the depiction of defiance.

"What in the blazes do you think you're doing, woman? Where are the little ones?" John growled.

"They are safe, they are with my mother." Fanny dismissed him, but John wasn't going to give up without an argument.

"Are you bleeding cracked girl? You could get hurt!"

"I've given birth to eight babies. You don't talk to me about getting hurt, you big ox!" Will didn't know why John was still putting up a fight. If he was faced with Fanny's wrath, he would have back down five minutes ago. "Anyway, I'm not just gonna sit here and let one of them die, am I?"

John looked at her in askance, "You should be bloody well minding the other seven! Tell her, Rob!"

Will waited to see what Robin would do. His brother didn't take long to decide. Imbedding his dagger in one of the woodblocks that represented the scaffolding, he said, "Fanny, you'll take position here." End of argument, they moved apart.

* * *

Azeem had finished testing his black power by the time the mist had cleared, giving them plenty of time to fill the barrels and load them onto Friar Tuck's cart. All weapons had been bundled together, and the plan had been gone over about ten times. Robin was nervous – they all could tell. Will scoured the camp to check that there was nothing they missed. He frowned, seeing Robin's dagger still planted in its wooden block. He strode over and wrenched it out, just as Bull yelled over that they were leaving. Will turned the dagger over in his hands.

A hand fell onto his arm. It was Robin, "Come on Will."

Will held out the dagger, sheath first, "You should take this."

Robin shook his head, "They won't be allowing any sort of weapon into the castle – Nottingham is too paranoid. Besides, it might ruin my beggar look, don't you think?" He gave a little turn to prove his point.

Will rolled his eyes, "You don't keep it at your belt; any decent thief knows that. You hide it in your boot and cover it with your clothes." He gave his brother a crooked smile, "Nottingham soldiers don't like getting too close to peasants' feet for some reason…"

Robin laughed. It would probably the last smile any of them would see for a while. Watching his brother move off, Will pulled up the hood of his cloak. Time to go. They were an odd procession, moving through Sherwood. Three hours, Will chanted in his head, three hours. The reality was starting to set in about the true dangers of what they were about to do. Their small group had cheated death once – could they do it a second time only two days later?

Robin fell back into step with his brother, "Are you okay?" There had been something off with him when they left, and Robin wanted to know why.

Habit and stress manifested in Will's reply, "What makes you think you can read me Locksley?" He immediately regretted his sharp tone. They had been getting on so well all morning – trust him to spoil it, "Sorry."

Robin didn't seem to mind. Will had never really noticed before how much patience the man commanded, "Because you hide your emotions poorly. Your tongue may be good at lying, but your eyes are not. You were lucky the Sheriff is not too bright, or he might have realised."

Will shrugged, "You never figured me out before."

Robin chuckled, "That is because, brother, your anger and hate were very real." He rested his hand on Will's shoulder when the younger man made to say something, "Don't apologise again. We are both sorry for many, many things – it is what makes life, life. We need to move past this."

Will muttered something Robin couldn't catch above the rickety sounds of the cart, "What?"

Will wrenched his eyes up from the floor, "That's if we both survive today."

Robin did not know how to answer at first. This was why he hadn't wanted Will to come along. He had thought he had no family left, and now he had discovered this younger brother – despite their hateful relationship beforehand – he didn't want to lose him. Will was almost thirteen years younger than him and he didn't want the boy in harm's way. Nevertheless, he had known there was no way to keep Will out of this, so he answered the only way he could, "We will. It is time for the Sheriff to be stopped. By that fact alone, we will survive."

Will didn't answer – Robin could tell that he didn't believe him; he had seen too much death in such a small space of time for his words to seem plausible. Will was used to being alone in life, and that only created a fear that he would lose Robin. He could relate; Robin felt the same way about Will.

But he had meant what he had said: this ends today.

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: What did you think?


	8. Dance with the Devil

Author Notes: Argh! Sooo sorry guys! I started university for the first time last sunday, and before that I was packing, and I completely blanked that I needed to update! So I hope you can accept my apology, and enjoy this chapter. I'll try and keep the updates going, but they may be a lot less frequent than before.

Chapter 7: Dance with the Devil

"No blades, no bows! Leave your weapons here! No blades, no bows! Leave your weapons here! No blades, no bows…" The cry rang sharp through Nottingham. Will kept his head down, the hood shadowing his features. He allowed himself to be searched, but was unwilling to look any guard in the eye lest they recognise him. They had all spilt up at Nottingham gates, and now Will suddenly felt very alone. He allowed himself to melt into the gathering crowd, trying not to look at the scaffolding from which their men would soon hang.

Gathering his thoughts, he looked up to the battlements where Fanny was sitting. He wandered seemingly aimlessly over to the wall, and waited until he saw two glints of silver drop from her hands and imbed in the ground. He strode forwards, stooping in time with Bull to wrench the sword from the ground. Only one beggar man on the floor seemed to notice. As they grazed shoulders, Will heard Bull mutter, "Good luck."

"You too."

Moving forwards, Will heard a cart rattle in; Tuck and Azeem had made it through. He listened rather than watched as the barrels were placed around the square, the final one just under the hangman's noose. There was a slight commotion, and Will moved forwards slightly in case he was needed, but he knew he couldn't blow it now. He caught the end of Tuck's words, "Ah, Ceasar has spoken my leprous friend. Let us gather our offerings and depart. Is this your finger?" Will suppressed a grin as the soldier recoiled and Tuck rubbed his advantage further, "He leaves bits and pieces of himself all over England…" Will shook his head. The Friar had certainly come a long way.

The atmosphere was charged. Will could hear Friar Tuck calling something to the crowd, and then he felt something under his cloak. Twisting round, he grabbed the pick-pocket roughly, thankful it was just a harmless boy, "Hey! Nothing there but trouble, boy." He pushed him away, and then looked up to where the Sheriff and Lady Marian were standing with other rich men.

The Sheriff's voice rang clear, "Bring them out!"

Drums beat a heavy beat through the square. It made Will's heart seem all the louder in his ears. God... He watched in shock as their men were dragged out, flanked by soldiers, hands bound. None of them looked in a good way. A soldier's cry of "Make way!" split the crowd, making Will suddenly very near the front. He tried to keep his head down, but found his eyes connect with Wulf's. Desperately, he tried to communicate without words that it wasn't what he thought, but too late.

Wulf lunged at Will, taking his guards by surprise, "Traitor! Kill him!" Within the confines of the crowd, it was hard to fight back, and he was sure Wulf was purposefully targeting the wounds he had received in the dungeons. He felt himself being wrenched up by the collar as he and Wulf were pulled apart.

"What's going on? Bring him here!" The Sheriff's voice overrode the crowd.

Will found himself being dragged forwards. "What did I do?" He tried to yell at the soldiers. He could almost feel his brother's eyes burning through him. This was it; they were all dead.

Silence reigned as the Sheriff looked down at him. Will felt himself being forced to his knees as his head was pulled back with his hair so that he was made to look up, "Oh, the turncoat. Did you succeed?"

You lied once to this guy! Do it again! But there was still that little voice in his head, taunting him that the first time had been dumb luck. Speak idiot! "Well, I found his lair…but he was already dead."

The Sheriff frowned, "Are you sure? You saw Hood's body?"

Will tried to make his tongue move to repeat the lie, but what came out shocked him probably more than it shocked his brother, "No, I saw a g-grave." _What?_ Did he really just say that? God, he was pathetic. All those times he had wished a thousand deaths upon Robin, and now, just because of one stupid recognition of family, he couldn't even construct one simple lie.

One of the soldiers held up his sword, "We found this on him."

Will looked up at the Sheriff, shrugging and grinning, "String him up with the others!"

Will was hoisted up by the crowd, "Put me down! Let me go!" Hands pulled cruelly at his hair and clothes, causing him to cry out in pain, "Let me go!"

Robin was absolutely terrified as he watched his little brother being pulled along by the crowd. No, this couldn't be happening. When Will reached scaffolding, he tried to signal to Azeem – they had to blow that barrel _now_. This had been a bad idea. He should never have let Will come along – this was just what he had feared would happen.

Will was wrenched up onto the platform. Scathing laughter came from the midst of the crowd – there were no more nooses. He gripped one of the pillars in slight relief, "My Lord, it appears there's no more room. I'm afraid that I'll have to respectfully decline!"

But then the executioner had grabbed one of Azeem's barrels and hauled it up. Will found himself being handled roughly, forced forwards, "Come on you, down!" He tried to dislodge the man, but he was tying the rope too tightly. He spat at Will, making him grimace as it ran down his face, "There's always room for one more!"

Oh God… He could just about see Robin up on the battlements. There was nothing they could do. He had just blown their only chances, and now he was going to die. The drumming suddenly stopped, and Will heard a stool being kicked out. The crowd was in immediate uproar. Dimly, Will thought he could hear John. That must mean that it was Wulf first. And then Will saw Robin jump down and string an arrow. He must have missed, because he strung another. That one hit its mark, a dull thud indicating Wulf hitting the floor. The Sheriff's enraged cry could be heard, but it was Marian voice which carried, "_Robin!_"

And then the whole place seemed to explode as Azeem struck one of the barrels behind Robin. Will squeezed his eyes shut as smoking debris rained down. Then another went off. What on Earth was in those things? Hell, more to the point, what was this particular barrel going to do?

"Get some troops in here!" The Sheriff seemed mildly annoyed, "What are you waiting for? Get on with it!" Crap.

The executioner immediately followed the orders, and soon the sounds of strangled men joined the cries of fear. The stool next to Will clattered sideways, and then he saw the masked man pull an axe from a bundle. It looked really blunt. That was going to hurt. And then his eyes found Robin's. His brother looked just like he felt. He tried to tell Robin how sorry he was without words, and he wished he could have kept the terror from his eyes.

He felt the cool blade rest on his neck once, before it was pulled back. Will squeezed his eyes shut unable to watch Robin any longer. There was a dull thud that made him flinch, and then the axe clattered to the floor. Will opened his eyes. Robin had made the shot when it counted, and for that, Will would be eternally grateful.

Robin watched the flaming arrow glide straight into the man's chest, powered by all of his anger. He fought his way forwards, pulling a knife from his belt to cut the ropes that held his brother; John was doing a pretty good job with the scaffolding. He saw a man come at them with an axe, and his heart jumped to his throat. "Will! Look out!" He grabbed his brother by the hood, pulling him off the barrel, making him stumble back into Robin. The axe imbedded just where Will's head had been seconds ago.

Robin let go of Will as the younger man leapt clean off the platform, taking down the man, and landing a punch to his head through the helmet – that must have hurt.

John's cry rang out clear, "Come on, fight your way free!"

It was chaos. Innocent people were dying in the fighting – they couldn't stay here, Robin knew that, "This way, to the wall!"

And then Marian's cry stopped Robin in his tracks. He turned back to the crowd. He could just make out John, Bull and Will herding the people to safety, but he knew he would have to stay. And then Azeem called above the cacophony, "English! English! I'm Azeem Edin Bashir Al Bachrim! I'm not one of you, but I fight. I fight with Robin Hood! I fight against the tyrant who holds you under his boot! If you want to be _free_ men, then you must fight! Join us now! Join Robin Hood!"

And then everyone was on Hood's side.

* * *

Will ran forwards, seeing a frustrated Robin unable to open the gate. And then he signalled for help. For a second, Will had no idea what Locksley was planning, and then…"No way!" 

"Will, help me with this."

Will could only gape, "Have you lost it, Locksley?"

Robin threw him a look that was a mix between pleading and a glare. Will swallowed down any more protests, and helped direct the siege artillery. Robin clambered up, only to be pushed across by Azeem, "Is she worth it?"

Conviction laced Robin's voice, "Worth dying for." Will wanted to punch some sense into them both – they were about to die more sooner than they thought by the looks of it. And then, "Will!"

Will yanked down the release, and the pair were immediately propelled over the wall and into a cushion of hay. He blinked in shock, "Blimey, he cleared it!" And then he hopped down to help everyone else, unable to keep the grin from his face.

It wasn't long before they all managed to pull the gate open by sheer force alone, and the massive throng flooded through the gates. Will hoped Azeem and Robin could find Marian – from the courtyard, the place looked huge. They spread through the halls, helping people out where they could. Will attacked a soldier from behind, and managed to wrestle his sword off him. The place was like a bloody maze.

They reached a grand hall, adorned with decorations of swords and shields. Some sort of chamber used for meetings of the state, no doubt before Nottingham took control. A crossbow bolt imbedded itself into the doorframe, inches from Will's head. Apparently there were soldiers. Taking the lead, Will launched himself at the men who still dared to stand for the evil man and his witch. The fight was fierce, but it helped that Bull, dressed as a Celt, was also there.

Will fell over a chair, only just scrambling out of the way as the man's sword sailed down. He brought up his blade in a defensive movement Azeem had taught them. The movement involved him twisting his body at the last moment, and thinking back, it was probably what saved his life from being ended just there, as another soldier had attacked from behind. The second attacker's sword ripped through his clothes and flesh, gouging out a gulley in his side. Will cried out, the pain and shock making him stumble. Bull heard the cry, and managed to slit one of the soldier's throats from behind as Will weakly sheathed his sword in the chest of the other. They had taken the hall.

Will's vision dimmed in and out, and he made to grasp the table to stop himself from falling. Bull caught him gently around the middle as his legs buckled. He could vaguely hear Bull saying something – for some reason he seemed panicked, "Will? Will, are you alright?" There was pressure at his side, and then Bull swore imaginatively. Oh, right, he had been sliced by that soldier. Robin was going to be annoyed. Bull seemed to think so too, "Dammit, Scarlett, stay awake! Rob's going to kill me if you die!"

Will would have happily obliged – the last time Robin had gotten really angry with him, he had planted an arrow in his hand. Unfortunately, losing blood from an already battered body tends to be bad. And then he was falling through the dark.

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: Please review!


	9. Fall Away

Author Notes: Thanks for the great feedback. As you've probably realised, I've gone through the main bulk of the film now, and my plan is to now do some original stuff in between the events of the previous chapter, and the wedding. I might go beyond the film after that, but we'll see what you guys think of this first!

Chapter 8: Fall Away

Azeem walked through the corridors. The witch and her Sheriff were dead, thank Allah, and they had survived – although it had been a close one with Robin. His leg throbbed, but he had managed to stop the spear from getting in very far and doing severe damage. He had already bound it tightly, and the bleeding seemed to have stopped.

The noise had dulled. It would seem that the castle had been taken. Just as Azeem was going to let his happiness show, he was collided into by a man he recognised as Much. "Azeem!" He looked relieved, but fear was still etched on his face.

Something wasn't right, "What is it?"

"Bull sent me to find someone who could help! It's Scarlett, he's badly hurt. Bull thinks he's going to die!"

Unbidden, Azeem's thoughts turned to Robin and how he would react, but he pushed them aside, "Show me!"

With renewed energy, Azeem followed the man until they reached a grand hall. People were milling about, seemingly uncertain of how to help. A few were dragging the dead soldiers' bodies out. Azeem turned to Much, "Go! Find Robin!"

He moved forwards. Bull, still in his Celtic clothing, was knelt on the flagstone floor next to a very still body. His hands were pressed against the man's side, already coated in dark blood. He looked up desperately, "I can't wake him up. He was attacked from behind, I didn't have a chance to yell a warning. If he hadn't moved at the last second…" He left the statement open. Azeem nodded. For many people in the room, Will was still the turncoat who betrayed Robin Hood. To them, he was an injured friend.

Azeem gestured to someone who looked as if they worked in the castle, "You! Fetch me water, a needle and some thread." She nodded and ran off.

"W-what are you gonna do?" Bull was pale, but not nearly as pale as Will. His dark hair clung to his head, and his eyes flicked rapidly under the lids. Azeem desperately hoped Will stayed unconscious.

"I must sew up the wound. He is losing too much blood."

Bull nodded, doing anything he could to avoid looking at the injury. Azeem cursed. Where was that water? Gently, Azeem brushed Will's hair out of his face. The boy did not deserve to die so soon after finding his brother. For both him and Robin, Azeem vowed to do all he could. The Sheriff would not take another.

The girl returned, shoving a jug of water into the Moor's hands, and placing a sewing kit on the table, before backing away fearfully. Azeem nodded his thanks, indicating to Bull to move his hands so he could draw back Will's shirt. The blade had also sliced through the bandages of the previous day, forcing Azeem to cut the rest away. "Hold him down."

Bull frowned, but complied as he moved his hands from their place over the wound to Will's shoulders, "Why?"

"Because this will hurt." Azeem answered simply, pouring the water onto and through the wound.

Will groaned and arched, but his eyes remained closed. Bull bit his lip. Azeem threaded the needle. He could hear a voice behind him –it sounded like John – but he ignored everything, focusing on the nasty gash that was still weeping blood. He murmured a small apology for the pain he was about to inflict, and began to sew.

The pain sliced through Will's consciousness like a heated blade. Instinctively, he tried to pull away, but found himself to be held down firmly. What was going on? Everything felt hot and cold, loud and quiet. Everything just _hurt_. Will struggled; he was scared. There were people all around – that much he could tell – but beyond that, everything was just so confusing, as if the world was shrouded in a mist of darkness and pain.

* * *

Robin ran full pelt down the corridors after Much. He hadn't wanted to leave Marian, but she had insisted. He had been comforted to be able to leave her with Tuck, but now a raw fear was tearing through him. Much hadn't been very explicit, so for all he knew, Will could have died by now. He ran into the hall where he had been told he would find his brother. It was mostly clear of people by now, except for a few who were helping the Moor on the floor with – oh God…

"Will!" Robin lunged forwards, only to be caught by John.

"Let him do his work, Rob."

Robin felt helpless. Too many people had died these past few days. He had only just found out that Will was his last remaining family; he couldn't lose him too. He shrugged John off, indicating that he was calmer, and moved around the table to kneel next to Bull, who was keeping Will still. Robin could tell that the injured man had no idea what was going on. Gently, he cupped Will's face in his hand, and started whispering to him. He wasn't really sure what he was saying – something about Nottingham, the words just sort of spilled out. He didn't even know if Will could hear him, but he had to feel as if he was doing something.

"It is done." Azeem breathed, exhaustion clear on his features. He took bandages offered to him by the girl who had fetched the water, and began to dress the wound.

"Will he live?" Robin didn't want to ask the question, but he knew he had to.

Azeem looked up into the Christian's pleading eyes. "I am not certain." He answered truthfully, "He has lost much blood, but I do not believe that the blade did too much damage beyond that. Time will tell; he is strong."

Robin nodded absently, "I want to get him out of this house of death. Bull, help me."

Azeem shook his head, "No, we should not move him far. Besides, where would you go? The forest is no place for someone in his state."

Robin was at a loss; he just wanted to get his brother away from the place where he had almost lost him – multiple times. No one seemed to know what to say, and then a strong voice sounded from the door, "My lands are close to Nottingham. Not more than a half hour's ride. We could get him there by cart." It was Marian.

Robin looked at Azeem in question. It was clear the Moor was struggling with himself, "Very well, but it must be slow and gentle – we cannot afford to pull any stitches."

* * *

Robin sat in the back of a cart 'liberated' from Nottingham castle with Azeem and his brother, who was still unconscious, covered in scraps of blankets and leaning against Robin's chest to minimise the movement of his limp body. Marian, Sarah and Bull sat in the front. John, Fanny, Tuck and their other men were staying behind to lead everyone else back to Sherwood. The damage from the first battle and fire need to be repaired, but thankfully it wasn't as extensive as the damage Nottingham had wrought on the villages. Many also wanted to return to visit the graves.

The journey was quiet. All were happy for the victory they had gained today, but it was tainted with worry. Robin was staring blankly at the grey sky when he felt a movement against his chest, "Will?"

A groan, and then, "Robin? What's going on?" Will opened his eyes slightly. They were clouded and confused. He blinked owlishly up at his brother.

Robin smiled to hear Will's voice, "You were hurt. Azeem patched you up, and now we're on our way to Marian's home."

"Did we win?"

"Yes. Nottingham's dead."

"Oh." Will's eyes slid shut again, "That's good." He lapsed back into sleep.

Robin leant his head back onto the wood of the cart, regarding Azeem, "This could get nasty, couldn't it?"

"To which are you referring? Your brother's condition, or the seat of power now left empty from the Sheriff's death?"

"Both."

Azeem sighed, "You know as well as I how wounds like that can turn. He is lucky to be alive, but there is always the chance of infection. He will have to be watched closely. As for Nottingham, I would advise that either you or Lady Marian take a seat at the Shire's control, getting a message to your King Richard as soon as possible. It is the best route open to you. The people know of you both, and you have noble blood. Pray that is enough to stop this rebellion from turning to civil war."

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: So, what d'ya think?


	10. Shadows Across the World

Author Notes: I've come to the conclusion that I probably really should be doing work and not posting, but I love you guys so much, and this is way more fun than essays! Thanks for the feedback, and I hope you like this one.

Chapter 9: Shadows Across the World

Marian looked up from her seat by the hearth as Robin stooped to enter the room, "How is he?"

Robin shrugged, looking lost, "We got him up to the room you showed us. He didn't wake up." He sighed, sitting down, "Azeem does not want to tell me the truth, but I can see it in his eyes – he is worried."

Marian placed her hand on Robin's knee, "From what I have seen of your brother, I have found him to be as strong-willed as you. He will survive."

Robin smiled at her gratefully, and then they both seemed to realise themselves. Marian removed her hand as if burned, cleared her throat, and busied herself with her hair; anything for her hands to do. Robin gave her a crooked smile, "Why is it that after everything, we are still awkward?"

Marian stopped her nervous actions, letting her hands fall to her lap as she matched Robin's expression, "Because status seems to make things all that more complicated."

Robin gave a bitter laugh, "I know what you mean. Sometimes I wish my life were just as simple as the one John, Fanny and all the others have lived. But then I look at Will, and I remember that nothing ever is."

Marian shrugged, "We can but try." She turned her gaze back to the flames.

Robin looked at her for a long moment. She was a strong woman, but he knew that this day would mark her until the end of her days, "In all the confusion, I never asked." Marian frowned, but invited him to continue with her eyes, "How are you?"

He watched as shadows clouded her normally clear eyes, "There is more to be pitied from the Sheriff's actions than just what happened to me, Robin of Locksley. For all those people taken to Nottingham that night, I know that many more graves lie in your forest."

"Marian…"

She seemed to be struggling to keep her composure. Robin took her hand, only to have it wrenched from his grip, "I'm sorry, Robin, but I need time, and your brother needs you. Use this house as your own."

"But-"

"Milady?" Sarah had appeared in the room.

Marian raised her eyes to his, "Please Robin. I love you, but I need to be alone."

Robin nodded. If she had not said those three words, he likely would have refused, but the plead in her voice was too strong. At a loss of what else to do, he moved away, wandering absently off. He ended up in the courtyard. It was mostly empty, save for a few who had sought sanctuary of late. Sitting on a pile of chopped wood, was Azeem. The Moor smiled softly as Robin approached, "I have left Bull to watch over your brother. I believe the man felt guilty; he needed something to do. You, on the other hand…"

Robin let his head fall into his hands, "Nottingham's dead. How can he do this much damage from the grave?"

"You have accomplished much, Christian. I have no doubt that you will accomplish more."

"I just…with Will, and now Marian…"

The dark eyes regarded him with scrutiny, "You can expect neither to return to as they once were. Will, simply because your relationship must grow, and the lady Marian, because she needs time."

Robin threw his hands up, "That's what she said."

Azeem shrugged, "She was taken from her home and forced to marry an evil man. Her future could have been much darker. Be thankful for that."

Robin nodded, "Thank you, my friend. You are indeed a credit to your name."

* * *

Robin groaned, the crick in his neck alerting him that he really should not have fallen asleep in a chair with his head on the bed. He blinked the sleep from his eyes as the first rays of the new sun lit began to light up the room. His hand was clasped over another, which was pale and clammy. Robin jerked up into a full state of awareness. His brother was lying in the bed before him, but he was no longer as still as he had been the day before.

Will's head tossed, his eyes scrunched up as if trying to dispel whatever nightmare plagued him. His long hair was plastered to his head, which was covered in a sheen of sweat. His teeth were involuntarily chattering slightly, as if he was cold. Tentatively, Robin pushed back Will's hair to feel his forehead, only to confirm his worst fears. Will's skin felt like it was on fire. Gently, Robin grasped his brother's shoulder, and tried to wake him up, "Will? Will, it's Robin." But there was nothing. "Will!"

He was loath to leave Will, but he knew Azeem had more experience in the healing of wounds than he did. Besides, Bull was leaving to check on the state of the shire and the forest that morning, and so he would be able to send him for a doctor if the Moor was at a loss.

As it happened, Robin found that he did not need to go and find his friends. Apparently, his voice had risen in his attempt to rouse the ill man, and two men suddenly burst into the bedchamber. "What is it?" Azeem seemed slightly out of breath, and Robin was reminded of the injury he had sustained from the witch.

"It's Will…" He found he couldn't complete the sentence, a feeling he had not felt since Peter's death clamouring at his throat.

The painted man pushed his way through, resting a hand on Will's head as Robin had done. His expression was grave. "He has developed a fever. I fear that the wound has become infected." He sighed.

Robin jumped in at the slight pause, "What can we do?"

"We must clean and redress the wound. I will see what sort of herbs and other supplies the Lady Marian has at her disposal. If she has none, then one of us must go and collect them – and soon. I had some in Sherwood Forest. Time is imperative if you want your brother to live."

Bull nodded, "I'll go. You tell me what you want."

Robin gave them both a weak smile, "Thank you my friends."

Azeem shook his head, "Do not thank me until this is over. He will get worse before he gets better – the fever must break."

Robin nodded, "It will."

Azeem looked into the desolate eyes of his equal, "We can but hope. But the road will not be easy – for you or for him." And he swept from the room to get to work, leaving Robin to worry over the words alone.

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: Can't say I'm a big fan of this chapter, but it was necessary to write. Please let me know what you thought.


	11. Rain, Rain, Go Away

Author Notes: Sorry for the delay, I hope this chapter meets your expectations... Thanks for the lovely reviews!

Chapter 10: Rain, Rain, Go Away…

Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop, make it stop! "Argh!" Will cried out as the claustrophobic feeling that tightened over and over, wrapping its way round his consciousness, got the better of his control.

"Will?" A voice? Where the hell was that coming from? Why couldn't it just..? Wait. No. Remember. He should remember something. Breathing, breathing is good right? Why was everything so close? Walls that he couldn't even see were pressing in on him, coming closer and closer and-

"Will?" The voice was softer, calmer this time. Will forced himself to open his too-bright eyes. Where, what? What was… He looked at the person who was trying to get through to him, and swallowed through his too-dry mouth. Who were they? What was going on? Everything was upside-down and round and round. Something was burning him with an ice cold heat. A hand reached out to touch his face, but he moved his head away, arching his neck as his head beat out a drumming-

Drums? Oh god! Ropes and nooses and axes and fire. People were dying, people were screaming, people were running. Will squeezed his eyes tight shut.

Just please make it stop…

* * *

Robin had never felt so useless in his life. Azeem had done all he could, and now it was all up to Will. Robin could only sit, and hope that the brother he hadn't known existed for most of his life knew he was there for him now. It was hard to imagine that it was only three days ago that Will had actually told him the truth, but so much had happened that it felt like a lifetime. 

Will groaned and cried out in his sleep, nightmares fraught with fever and fear taking over his mind. "Will?" Robin tried to make his brother hear him, but maybe he was only hoping for some sign that his brother was even still in there, "Will?"

To his surprise, it seemed for a moment as if his words had gotten through, as Will's head turned towards his voice, and his eyes opened. But any hope that his brother was getting better disappeared as soon as their eyes connected. The normally sparkling eyes were now fever-bright and unseeing. Fear clouded and controlled their flickering movements, and as Robin reached out to check his temperature, he felt his heart wrench as Will jerked away, arching his body and shutting his eyes, a hacking cough tearing from his throat.

Robin scrubbed his face with his hands, unable to deal with what was happening. His mother had died of much the same fever that now wracked his brother's body, and although he had been young, he had been old enough to watch her die and know the meaning. He had lost his father to Nottingham, never saying any words of reconciliation. He could not, would not, lose Will.

He was broken out of his thoughts by a hand brushing his shoulder. He turned to see Fanny Little staring down at him. Robin blinked, "When did you..?"

Fanny raised an eyebrow, "It's been too long since you slept if you didn't hear the ruckus everyone made when we came in here."

Robin stared at her, "Everyone?"

Fanny shook her head dismissively, "Leave this little one to me." She indicated to the bed, "Get some _sleep_ Robin. Or you'll do him no good."

Robin stood in protest, and Fanny took the opportunity to take Robin's seat. Immediately, she busied herself with the cloth and bowl of water that had been left on the side, and began dabbing it through Will's already damp hair. "Fanny, please…" She threw him a glare of finality, and Robin sighed, "Thank you Fanny."

"Good. Now be off with you. Don't think I haven't got any experience with this with eight children growing up. He'll be safe with me."

* * *

When Robin awoke, the sun was casting a blood-shine across his face. Sunset. Robin sat up quickly, grimacing as he felt all the blood leave his head for a moment. Please say his did not sleep a whole day and night. What if…No. Surely they would have woken him if something had happened. Unless they wanted to give him a little more peace. 

Throwing on some over-clothes and pulling on his boots, Robin all but ran from the room, taking the steps down two at a time. All the while, he cursed himself for being in the other wing of the manor – only there had been no more room in the wing they had put his brother. He reached the walkway where he had first seen Sarah disguised as Marian, and it was there that he first heard voices. And then his name, "Rob!"

"John?" Robin stared down into the hall. All of the original band of outlaws sat in the room, plus a few more, "What are you doing here?"

"Closer to Nottingham, ain't it?" At Robin's blank look, he elaborated, "The shire's gone to the dogs, Robin. The barons are all vying for control with what remains of their private retainers. We've been trying to keep the peace in your name."

"Why wasn't I told?"

John shrugged, "We thought you knew."

Azeem stepped from the shadows, "This is my fault, my friend. The situation has not become quite so dire as of yet; Lady Marian is controlling it to a point. You needed to be by your brother's side."

Robin paled, "What do you mean '_needed_'? What's happened?"

Azeem was quick to put him right, "Nothing – there is no change in his condition."

Robin nodded absently, his mind working over two problems at once, "Has a message been sent to the King?"

"Yes. By my own hand." Marian stepped into the light. She looked better, her colour having returned along with her smile, "But we should not expect a reply for two weeks at the very least."

"And until then?" Robin asked the question half to himself and half to his men.

John sighed, "We keep as much control as we can. The Earl of Mansfield is our biggest problem at the moment – he's got the most men under his command."

Robin pinched the bridge of his nose, "Mansfield is an old fool."

"But a rich old fool wealthy enough to pay his retainers." Marian pointed out, "That makes him a threat. Besides, you should not underestimate him."

"Aye - 'specially if he manages to unite the others like wot Nottingham tried." Bull added.

"We'll have as big a problem as last time."

Robin shook his head, "No. We only have to worry when he starts to get allies from the other counties. Then they are truly a threat to the throne. Until then, we have a reputation and the people on our side. We liberated them from Nottingham. Surely that will be helpful?"

John nodded reluctantly, "Perhaps. But they've seen too much death recently. Many are just plain sick and tired."

Bull nodded, "And by the sides, a reputation ain't doing us much good so far. We's already got attacked by a small group of soldiers at the gates. They're after you. Once you're dead, they've got a clear path."

Marian nodded, "Dead or discredited."

Light footsteps interrupted their talks. It was Wulf, whom Robin hadn't seen since the boy was almost executed. He touched Azeem's arm, and whispered something to the Moor. Whatever is was, by neither expression did it look good. Azeem straightened, "This discussion will have to continue without your leader." He indicated, "Please."

Fresh worry built within Robin as he left his men and followed his friend. They took the short walk to Will's room, and voices could be heard from within. Wulf pushed open the door. Fanny was still there, desperately talking to Will, who was moving violently and restlessly, fever changing his perception of reality, "No! No, please, please don't…please…" The abused voice trailed off into a sob; whatever Will was seeing, it was clearly horrible.

Fanny looked up pleadingly, "He's been like this since he woke up. I can't still or calm him, and he won't stop shivering." Robin thought shivering was putting it mildly – Will's whole body was shaking violently, his hands especially as they gripped at the sheets, ripping his nails into bloody shreds.

Azeem took hold of Will's shoulders, forcing the weak body down, causing him to cry out. Azeem looked more worried than he had since Will was injured – and that was saying something, "His fever is reaching a peak. It will either break soon, or…" He didn't finish the sentence.

"No! Please, Father!" All eyes turned to Will in confusion; Robin's more confused than any. He prayed the cry had come from a nightmare of fictional origins, and not from anything else.

Making up his mind, Robin gestured to the others, "I will sit with him. You must get some sleep, or else help John. Please." His tone left no room for argument.

Taking a seat on the side of the bed, Robin took his brother's hand. The three watched him for a second, before filing out. Wulf paused at the door, "I'm sorry."

Robin frowned, "For what?"

"For ruining the plan. If I hadn't then maybe he wouldn't be lying there."

Robin gave the boy a weak smile, "If this is anyone's fault, it is mine. You only did what you thought was necessary."

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: I'll try and aim for the next update within the fortnight. Please let me know what you thought of this chapter in the meantime:)


	12. Come Again Another Day

Author Notes: Argh! Huge gap! Sorry sorry sorry sorry! Hope you like this one; it's picking up from a comment made in a chapter AGES ago, see if you can find it :) Enjoy!

Chapter 11: Come Again Another Day…

He hadn't meant to get this close. He knew that the hunting woods on the Locksley lands were out of bounds for all from the village. They had been given to the noble family by the King himself, and as such were not to be sullied by peasants such as Will.

But he hadn't been able to help himself. He had just sort of…wandered. And before he knew it, he was in the middle of Locksley Woods with no idea which way was out. Will sighed. He really should stop doing this, but ever since his mother had fallen ill, he had found his mind wandering off, and his legs simply following. After all, it wasn't like he had anything to be particularly cautious or careful about now he was soon to be alone in the world. Besides, he really couldn't deal with his mother's fevered words of his father returning, and so Fanny Little had remained while he had made to escape for a few hours.

Thud.

An arrow resounded around the woods as it buried itself into the bark of a tree inches from Will's head. Hooves quickly followed. Crap, crap, crap, crap! Now what? He made to run, but he wasn't fast enough as a horse thundered past, its rider stooping and catching Will around the scruff of his neck and throwing him to the dirt. The man astride the horse was red of hair, with a noble air and noble clothes. He laughed harshly at the sight of the boy curled protectively on the ground, "Look what we have here, Locksley!" He called to another man, who came riding up behind. Will went pale at the name as the man who was by blood his father came riding up next to the first, "This boy thinks himself a deer!"

Lord Locksley sighed, "Mansfield, I am in no mood for your sport of taunting peasants. Let us continue with our hunt of the deer; I find it much more calming."

Mansfield shook his head, "But then this boy would surely like to join us? He must also find the sport of deer hunting enjoyable to be in these woods."

Will forced his tongue to unstick from the roof of his mouth, "No, sire. I wasn't, I mean, I wouldn't! I just got…lost." God that sounded pathetic.

Mansfield laughed, "You hear him Locksley? The boy got lost!" His expression turned dark, "If you take so much pleasure in deer, boy, perhaps it is more fitting for you to be one!"

Will froze. He had heard stories from boys in his village of noblemen turning deer hunting into peasant hunting. It wasn't too bad for those under Locksley – he at least made sure they didn't starve – but in many areas, people of his class were turning to poaching. And so he did the only sensible thing. He scrambled to his feet and ran. Dimly, he thought he heard Locksley yell something, but he could not make out the words. An arrow sailed inches from his feet, causing him to stumble further, and then slip upon the wet leaves that coating the ground. The horses easily caught up. Mansfield strung another arrow, and Will tried to stand, "No, please, no, don't, I'm sorry!" And then there was a resounding pain that echoed throughout his whole body as his shoulder sang with fire. He screamed out in pain. In desperation, Will turned his eyes to the other nobleman, and the words just sort of slipped out, "No! Please, Father!"

Both men looked shocked, and then Mansfield's lips curved into a cruel smile, "The boy has high delusions of himself, does he not, Locksley?" He sneered, "Nobility is defined by ones birthright as gifted by the good Grace of God, not for rats like you."

Locksley's eyes were fixed upon Will, but he added nothing more except to turn to Mansfield, "Enough. The boy has paid his penance, and I would much like to retire."

"But the little deer is injured, we should put it out of its misery!" Locksley's companion mocked.

"I said enough, Mansfield. These are my lands, and my people. Do with your own as you will. Go boy." He ordered Will.

The one and only time Will had looked into the eyes of his Father and a nobleman. And he hated what he saw.

* * *

Will was barely able to walk by the time he reached his village, but his arrival was masked by the coming night. He had desperately tried to stem the bleeding, but had been too scared to remove the arrow. A light burned through the window of the tiny hut on the edge of the village; his home. He had gotten out of the woods. 

When he stumbled through the door, it was Fanny who first saw what state he was in, "What on Earth? By my father's grave, what has happened to you?"

Will all but collapsed into her arms.

Fanny had not returned home that night. Indeed, her husband had come looking for her, and had been shocked to discover the state of the mother and boy. Although generally shunned by the village for her actions, the Littles were forgiving, and found they could not turn away from the sick woman and her child. It had taken many hours, but John had succeeded in helping Fanny pack the wound, and also got some answers from the boy.

"It's a bloody disgrace!" John hissed, as Fanny carried the sleeping Will to a straw mattress hidden away in the corner.

"Keep your voice down!" Fanny admonished quietly. "I don't want her knowing what her son's been doing! Going into Locksley Woods, of all things!"

"I weren't taking about that and you know it! That Mansfield's a right piece of work. I heard they're working on getting a new Sheriff into Nottingham."

"Lord Locksley would never allow it." Fanny replied with certainty, "Don't go spreading fear, John."

"Times are changing; you mark that, Fanny my girl. Now come on. We should get home – can't be seen leaving this house in the early hours of the morning."

The sun had not yet risen, but it would not be long, and so when Will awoke from the pain in his shoulder, he found the hovel empty of life. Thankfully, the Littles were knowledgeable, and had packed his wound with something to help with a wound such as an arrow, but he knew his condition could worsen, and so had been about to go back to sleep when he heard a voice call weakly over to him, "William?"

Will suppressed a groan. His mother was generally incoherent these days, and talking with her was taxing at the best of times. Nevertheless, he rose and walked painfully over to her, "I'm here, Mother."

Her face was drawn and sunken, as if she were carved of wax, and the hand that reached up to touch his face was withered with premature age, "Ah, my William. Do not think I am as much of a fool to not have heard you last night."

"No, Mother, it's nothing…"

"It is_ not_ nothing, William!" Her voice broke away into a cough that shook her whole frame, her lungs having trouble with the force with which she had delivered the words. "I am truly sorry."

Will wrinkled his nose in confusion, "For what?"

"For not giving you the life your heritage deserves."

Will snorted, "Nobility is defined by ones birthright as gifted by the good Grace of God, not for rats like me." He quoted the nobleman from the woods.

"No!" His Mother frowned, "Nobility is not a birthright, it is defined by ones actions."

Will matched his mother's frown as his words were twisted, "Who told you that? A beggar or a fool? Both, perhaps?"

"Those are the words of your Father, and you would do well to mark them. You deserve a nobleman's life, William. You are a kind soul." Will flushed. It had been a long time since he had spoken any proper words with his mother, since the illness that had overcome her was so damaging to her health and state of mind. She smiled weakly, "Now, off to bed with you."

His mother died that night, before the sun rose to herald a new day. She died quoting the falsehoods of the ruling classes, believing them to the last. But what good was noble blood, if it could not, or would not, stop death?

What was the point, if all noblemen were the same?

But as desolation tried to take hold, there was a tiny voice that doubted that belief, as if it was one long and gone past.

As if there was a noble who was worth his title.

But whenever he tried to grasp the name or the meaning behind the odd new notion, it just slipped away into the fevered mist.

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: Please review! We'll return to the main story next chapter :)


	13. All the World is Waiting for the Sun

Author Notes: Sorry for the HUGE delay, but the move back home for the holidays left me without internet for longer than I expected. Anyway, thanks for the feedback,and hope you enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 12: All the World is Waiting for the Sun

Azeem gently pushed open the door to Will's room. The scene was much the same as he usually expected when entering. Will was buried in covers and blankets, looking all the smaller next to his taller brother, who had, once again, fallen asleep in one of the most awkward positions known to man. Azeem smiled in spite of himself, as he watched the famous Robin Hood's head loll from side to side as his chin rested on his chest.

Out of habit, Azeem moved forwards and checked Will's forehead. And then he frowned. Was it his imagination, or was the heat slightly lessened? Gently, he grasped the boy's shoulder, and was shocked to see Will's eyes opened fractionally to regard him for a second with a hazy gaze, before they slid shut and he fell back into a world of dreamless sleep. Azeem let his face split into a true smile, "Thank Allah…" He murmured. The worst was over; Will had pulled through. Gently brushing Will's hair out of his sleeping eyes, Azeem turned to the older brother. "Robin. Christian!"

"What?" Robin jerked painfully out of his half-sleep. And then, "Oww…" He rubbed his neck.

"Well you will insist in falling asleep like that!" Azeem noted without sympathy.

Robin rolled his eyes, and then his face grew serious, "How is he?"

Azeem smiled down at his friend, "The fever has broken. We can hope that he gets better soon."

Robin looked at him in disbelief, and then the words sunk in, "That's great!" He laughed out loud for the first time in a very long time.

Azeem shushed him, "That is not to say that he will be a picture of perfect health within a few days. Of that you must be aware."

"Are you kidding? As long as he's breathing, that will always be enough for me."

Azeem raised an eyebrow, "And now that you know this, perhaps you can cease your stubborn ways and start caring more for yourself. Go."

Robin smiled, checked on his brother quickly, before leaving the room in high spirits.

* * *

Azeem had not been wrong about Will's recovery. The first few days since the fever had broken, Will had only been able to stay awake for an hour at a time, but soon this was extended, and with this, he remembered more and more of the conversations from the other times he had been awake. He was also getting some of his personality traits back. Namely his stubbornness.

"Will, we're handling it, it's fine." Robin protested for what must have been the fourteenth time.

Will sat in the opposite chair across the little table that was in his room and folded his arms, "I didn't say you weren't handling it, Robin, I was pointing out that I would like to know what's going on out there every now and again!"

"But you're still recovering-"

"That excuse is only going to hold for so long, Locksley." Will scowled, but let the subject drop. However much he wanted to know the details of the turmoil that now ravaged Nottinghamshire, at the moment, he much preferred using the limited time his brother had available to just, talk. After all, they had quite a few years to catch up on.

Thankfully, his other friends like Bull had less tact when it came to current affairs and Robin's censorship program for his brother, and so Will got much information from him. From what they could determine, things were getting very bad indeed. Spontaneous fighting was prone to break out in the streets between retainers of different allegiances, and with the King way, there was no one to orchestrate a wider control. Robin and Marian were so far succeeding in keeping the general peace, but things were getting to a stage where Mansfield would not be put down by a son of Locksley or a woman. He wanted control, and the title of Sheriff.

Mansfield. Will had blanked any attempts by Robin to delve that deeply into his past, because that was where it was always meant to stay. The scar on Will's shoulder would throb upon its own accord whenever that bastard's name was brought up. The muscles there would always be tense and bunched, but thankfully, they were not his in throwing arm, and so the 'noble' had not harmed Will as perhaps he might have liked.

By the time Will had been properly awake for a week, he was starting to feel very cooped up. Marian seemed to share his feelings, as more and more Robin insisted that she stayed within her grounds, apparently worried that Mansfield might try a similar route as the late Sheriff of Nottingham. The Dubois Manor was very well defended these days, with most of the woodsmen and families from Sherwood taking up residence within the spacious grounds. The King had yet to respond to Marian's plea, and it was looking more and more like they were on their own once again.

"He means well, of course, I know that." Marian sighed to Will one day, as they walked through the courtyard, which was more like a village nowadays.

"He's just incessantly annoying while he goes about it." Will supplied what only his sharp tongue could do.

Marian smiled softly, "Yes, I suppose that is true. But he has much to worry about, for you especially, although you might not want to hear it."

"And not for you, my Lady?"

"I have my status and blood to protect me. Along with these fine woodsmen, an excellent addition that we did not have before."

"And I'm just a half-blood peasant." Will inadvertently let some bitterness slip into his tone.

"You know full well Robin would never think of you like that!" Marian scolded, "It just seems that ever since he has found out that you are his brother, you tend to get into life or death situations."

"It's not like I do it on purpose! Before I didn't go on his raids because I didn't want to be near him – now I just want to help."

"And therein lies you brother's worry."

"I am almost healed! He cannot keep me here much longer. I have a right to help; this is my home."

"Says the man who has been walking at my side, wincing at every other step and clutching at his chest? Robin is no fool. Especially when it comes to you and I." She smiled reassuringly, "Come, Azeem will be thinking we have fallen into a ditch."

Will quirked an eyebrow, "I know. Those two make quite an annoying pair."

As the pair made their way into the inner courtyard back towards the house, an unnoticed man smirked, pulling his hood up to cover his face, and headed towards the nearest exit. He had enough information to make sure he would be getting paid, and then some.

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: As my beta will know, I did have a major crisis about this chapter - mainly that they're happy, and I know what I want to do to them next! Which partly meant I wanted to leave it here. Unfortunately, their happiness is not going to last long, as I must continue for you guys!


	14. Spread Your Broken Wings

Author Notes: Writer's Block is currently munching on my plotbunny. But I promise I won't abandon the story, and thanks for the support!

Chapter 13: Spread Your Broken Wings

"This is the last damn straw!" Robin exclaimed, slamming the point of his dagger into the old wooden table. "Are you sure?"

Wulf nodded, his expression grim, "There ain't nothing else they could be thinking of." Wulf had taken up a position as a kitchen boy in Mansfield Castle, and had been sneaking around, trying to gather information about Robin's biggest rival.

John stood behind his son, resting a hand on his shoulder, "We can't let Mansfield take Nottingham. It's our last hope. If we lose control of Nottingham, we lose control of the Shire, and it's the damn sheriff all over again!"

"Actually, losing Nottingham is the least of our problems." A voice called over from the door. Bull stood, half in the firelight, his face flushed red, as if he was out of breath.

The meeting's members all looked up. Robin frowned, "Bull? I thought you weren't due back until next week?"

Bull shook his head, "This has gone beyond Nottingham, Rob. Mansfield has sent out envoys to the surrounding counties. We apprehended a few in Sherwood, but the guy was careful – he sent multiple envoys to each noble. He's trying to plan a rebellion."

Robin paled, and many men in the room swore, but it was Marian who spoke, "How do you know?"

"The plans are already way ahead. They're all of Nottingham's old followers, so they've got a pretty good idea of what needs to be done. We haven't noticed it here as much because of what you're doing, but in other shires, they're cutting off the food supply, saying that it's going to feed the army in the Holy Lands."

Marian scoffed, "That's ridiculous. And impractical – there would be no need to do that! The food would spoil."

Bull shrugged and continued, "The nobles are doing everything in their power to turn the people against the King. And it's working – even here, and don't try to deny it, Robin. People are hungry, and they are sick and tired of fighting. Everyone thought it would be over after the Sheriff, and it's not."

Robin pinched the bridge of his nose, "We still have friends within the nobles. Mansfield is not popular – he's just got the biggest retainer."

"But for how long for?" Marian sighed, "We are losing their support. Mansfield has a strong heritage, and a stronger title. I hate to say it, Robin, but the fact that most of our support comes from the common people makes some of the nobles very nervous; it goes against the old way of things."

Azeem, who had kept quiet for most of the meeting, stepped forwards, "The lady is correct, Robin. Change is frightening, and you go against the natural order in the name of your King. It makes the people scared."

"Then what would you suggest?" Robin threw his arms up, casting his eyes around the room at the grim faces. He was at a loss. Mansfield was beating them, and the whole situation was flying out of their control. The King was either too busy with the Crusades, or their messages were not getting through.

There was silence, and then, "We kill Mansfield."

All eyes turned towards the man in the corner. Will had been quiet, as Robin was still a bit tetchy about involving his brother in the problems of the shire, and he had been content to listen. But now he stared at them all with hard eyes. Robin blinked, "We can't just kill him, Will."

"Why?" Will folded his arms, his stubbornness creeping into his tone.

"Because we killed the Sheriff, and looked what happened! I won't let violence be the first port of call. There has to be another way."

Will's expression darkened, "I distinctly remember you telling me that we would fight men with rocks and our bare hands if needs be. You brought organised fighting into our lives Robin. Mansfield is a malicious bastard who thinks all peasants like us are scum. What is so different about him? What makes him so different from the Sheriff? What do you want to do, make peace with him?"

"I will not lose any more lives!" Robin's voice held a tone of finality.

"But it was okay to put our lives on the line when it was revenge against the man who killed your father?" Will yelled, rising to his feet as his feelings of tension about being kept out of everything for so long reached a head.

Robin's eyes looked at him serenely, as if Will had just proved his point. Everyone else remained silent, "_Our_ father, Will."

"Took you long enough to make that distinction." Will glared, but Robin didn't flinch, "I won't sit back and watch Mansfield become Sheriff, or worse, put one of his pretenders on the throne. You think Nottingham was bad – that man just wanted power. Mansfield _hates_peasants, we're no better than slaves to him. He needs to be killed before he gets any more powerful!"

John regarded the young man for a moment, "He has a point, Rob, if we were to kill Mansfield now, no-one would question it. The nobles would follow you."

"I will not put any more blood on my hands unless absolutely necessary." Robin said flatly, "I refuse to accept that killing Mansfield is our only option."

Will barked out a laugh, "War is only on your terms then Locksley? It's okay for us to risk our lives if it suits your purpose? Otherwise we just follow you like the good little peasants we are? Well I'm sick of it!"

Robin was shocked at this about turn in his brother's character, "Where do you think you're going?" He called, as Will pushed his way through the stunned men to get to a door.

"Out of this prison! I'm going to do what you're too stuck up your own arse to do!"

"Are you insane? You'll get yourself killed!" Robin yelled.

John nodded, "Don't be daft, boy."

Will's eyes turned to stone, "I don't need you to dictate my life, Locksley. I've survived this long." And he stormed out.

Robin made to go after him, but Fanny stepped forwards, gently placing a hand on his arm, "Don't. He just needs time to cool off." She suspected she knew why Will had flown so far off the handle, but she neglected to mention it to Robin. Instead, she said, "You can't wrap him up and keep him away from the world – he isn't a child."

"But-"

"He'll be back, Rob." John affirmed, "He's just got a short temper."

Robin nodded absently, allowing the talk to turn back to the problem at hand. Nevertheless, he could not keep the feeling from the pit of his stomach that he should not have let his brother leave.

* * *

Will had been walking for a few hours now, and his pace had slowed from a purposeful stride to a meandering walk. He was quite a way from the place where he had spent his life since his injury, and the long walk by himself had given him time to think. Mainly about all the things he had said to his brother. He hadn't meant to be so...vocal, but all the stresses of the past weeks had just sort of come out, and Robin had been the target. It hadn't helped that the topic of Mansfield had been involved.

Will kicked a stone with vigour, watching through the gathering dusk as it rebounded off a tree. He was walking along the edge of Sherwood, taking an aimless path. He supposed he should go back before Robin sent the hounds after him – that was if his brother didn't hate him for what he'd said. He scuffed his feet on the ground, running a hand through his hair, to bring himself out of his introvert state. He should probably explain to Robin his issues with Mansfield, if Fanny or John hadn't done so already.

Twigs snapped, and Will's head shot up, his senses alert. It was probably just some of Bull's men in the Forest. But why would they be this close to the edge? Will's eyes scanned through the half-light, and he berated himself for being both too jumpy, and for having not paid attention. If anything, the shire was more dangerous than ever, with no solid control at its head. And he didn't have anything other than his whittling knife. Great.

Whether the noise was anything didn't really matter, either way, Will knew he should probably find shelter. Either go back to Robin – a long trek – or try and find their men in the Forest – which would be equally as hard. Before he could make up his mind, a voice cut through the evening air, "Well what do we have here?" Will whipped around to face a grinning man with bottomless eyes, "A little lost mongrel on the road."

Will tensed his muscles, sizing the man up. The man was huge, so fighting him would be stupid, but he thought he could probably outrun him, "Piss off." Ever the eloquent one.

The man kept grinning, "Can't do that, mate. There's someone who wants to meet you. And we've gotta thank you for making our job easy. All alone..."

Will shuddered, and then the full weight of the man's words hit him._'We'_?

He didn't get to think of anything more, as a blunt force impacted the back of his skull, and he crumpled to the ground as darkness swallowed him.

To Be Continued...

Author Notes: Will just doesn't get much luck, does he? Please let me know what you think!


	15. All Black

Author Notes: Oh dear, it's almost been a month... I'm so sorry! These chapters are getting harder and harder, as I'm trying to plan the route of the story out in my head.Plus, in the universally unfair world we live in, it always seems that boring essay writing that takes forever has to come before fun stuff. Sigh.Oh well, hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you so much for sticking with me this long:)

Chapter 14: All Black

Water rushed into his nose and mouth, forcing Will's mind to wrench itself into consciousness. The hand on the scruff of his neck tightened, jerking his head out of the barrel of water. Immediately, Will was gasping for breath, coughing up as much water as he could, shivering as the freezing water that plastered his blood-matted hair to his face met with the equally cold air. "Mornin' sunshine." A rough voice sneered from above him, using the painful grip he had to throw Will to the ground, still coughing. The heavily booted feet turned and walked out of the small room, allowing the heavy oak door to swing behind him, "Eat up now – you'll need your strength for your visit." He snorted at his own joke, and slammed the door, key turning in the iron cast lock.

Will attempted to force his thoughts into some semblance of order. He tried to pick himself up, and then immediately fell back as his hands refused to work the way they normally would. He looked down, and found his wrists to be clad in iron, connected by a heavy chain, which was then secured to a ring in the wall. It didn't leave much room for movement. There were a few sealed crates, and water barrels next to him – one now empty, the water having spilled out onto the rough stone floor – as was a piece of bread that looked older than Robin. Will shivered again as a draft whipped through the tiny basement storeroom. He didn't know where he was, but could make a pretty good guess – Mansfield Castle, the home of the number one enemy of Robin's Nottingham. This was really, _really_ not good.

Gingerly, Will tried to arrange his limbs to sit against the wall. He winced as his recent wound protested at the twisted position, and the shackles bit into the skin of his wrists, but at least sitting up and leaning against the wall helped his head to stop spinning. He struggled to order his thoughts. Why would Mansfield want him? Okay, so he was Robin's brother, but only their men knew that, and if he was here because he was one of Robin's men, then that would also be strange, seeing as his older brother had hardly let him out of his sight.

A sudden, stomach-jerking thought hit Will in that moment, one that made his eyes snap open, and his vision blur – what if Mansfield knew it was him? What if he knew Will was that boy from the woods all those years ago? The terror spread through his nerves, until belated reason took hold, and he cursed himself for being so stupid. Why the hell would Mansfield remember one pathetic peasant boy?

Will shook his head, and immediately regretted the action as the world span. Everything seemed detached from him, as if his mind, body and the real world were existing in three completely different places. That thought only made him feel more ill.

He closed his eyes, physically and mentally exhausted. Of all the situations he'd landed himself in during his life, this had to be one of the worst. This time there was no way out. He was here for a purpose, and he would have to wait to find out what. Time blurred together, and he found himself drifting in a state of half-consciousness.

Will didn't know how long he sat there, but it seemed like it had been only moments when the lock scraped and the door swung open. Expecting it to be the man from earlier, he didn't bother trying to open his eyes. But the voice that spoke was far too chillingly eloquent to be him, "Is this all that they brought me? I was almost hoping for something more."

Will's eyes snapped open in pure terror. He knew that voice; it belonged to the same man who had haunted his fevered dreams. Sure enough, there was the face that was burned into his memory. The same red hair, but with an older, more weathered face, cruelly twisted and bitter with an age unable to keep his personality from showing physically. The nobleman fixed his unblinking eyes on Will, who involuntarily found that he couldn't look away from the man of his childhood. "He was a long-standing outlaw, my lord, before he joined Robin Hood. He's the one who betrayed the late sheriff." The man from earlier spoke from the doorway.

So was that why he was here? Because Mansfield wanted revenge? That sounded a little too simple. Mansfield walked forwards, gingerly crouching on the still-damp floor, keeping his robes off the ground while still keeping eye contact with Will. "They tell me your name is William Scarlett, is that correct?" Will stubbornly kept his mouth shut, trying not to flinch when Mansfield used his full name, the name he had no right to use. The nobleman's face moulded itself into a crooked smile. "No, of course not, how silly of me. You must prefer William of Locksley."

Even Will couldn't keep his mouth shut after that, "_What?_"

A ringed hand came out of nowhere, backhanding him across the face, causing his head to spin further. "You will learn to hold your tongue in front of me, boy! Unlike you, I am noble by pure and righteous birth. I did not have a pathetic peasant whore for a mother."

"Shut up!" Will yelled with venom. This man had no right to speak about what he didn't understand.

He found his head wrenched backwards and his neck twisted at a painful angle as Mansfield grabbed his hair with a cruel hand. The man kept his tone perfectly amiable and calm, "My spies tell me that you are the youngest illegitimate son of the late Lord Locksley, half-brother to the oh-so-righteous Robin of Locksley, who has welcomed you with open arms instead of putting you out of your pitiful existence like he should have. I see now that they were not lying. Your father always did have a soft spot for scum like you." He tightened his grip on Will's hair, causing his vision to begin to grey and bile to rise in his throat. "I am going to teach your family what happens when they allow the natural order of things to be disrupted, and then maybe the rest of Nottingham's dirge will begin to understand." He roughly relinquished his grip by pushing Will to the ground, rising to his feet and making to leave.

Despite himself, Will raised his head, spitting out words he had once never thought he would say, "Robin is more a noble than you could ever hope to be! You won't succeed."

Mansfield turned, his cold eyes connecting with Will's fierce ones, "You should know, William, that as a descendant from one of the oldest Norman bloodlines, I do not tolerant insolence lightly." He signalled to the guard, who harshly kicked Will in the side so that Mansfield did not have to worry about soiling his robes with peasants. Will couldn't stop the cry that escaped him as fire laced through his still-healing side. He didn't think he could stay conscious much longer; his battered and exhausted body had been through too much in too little a space of time. "You would do well to remember your lot in life. Do not raise your eyes to me again; mongrels like you are barely fit to breathe the same air as men like me."

He swept from the room, followed by the other man, and the lock was turned, but Will didn't see, his eyes glued to the floor. As the footsteps faded, he curled around himself, trying to protect his body from yet more hurt and cold. He couldn't survive this. There was just no way.

A childlike fear rose within the pit of his stomach, combining with the pain and the nausea. He was alone. Completely abandoned by no one's fault but his own. A suffocating feeling smothered him, and he curled up further, his injuries vying for precedence within his mind as pain seemed to radiate from every nerve. Closing his eyes, he tried to make his mind go elsewhere, but all he managed was to fall into the blissful oblivion of unconsciousness.

To Be Continued...

Author Notes: Not too dark I hope? I will get the next chapter up as soon as humanly possible for me, but in the meantime, I would love to hear your opinions!


	16. Divide and Unite

Author Notes: There is only so much grovelling I can do; over 2 months, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting so long. My plan is to finish this fic before the holidays are over. I hope you enjoy this instalment!

Chapter 15: Divide and Unite

"Robin, you need to stop pacing. Please." Marian held out her hand to catch Robin's wrist.

Robin sighed, sitting down heavily next to her, "It is almost midday. He's still healing. I just can't help worrying."

"He needed time to calm down. He is probably still sleeping the morning away in the forest with Bull. You will laugh about this afterwards, I am sure."

Robin snorted lightly, "We'll laugh after I've killed him for worrying me so much."

"No, you'll both apologise first – yes, Robin, _both _of you." Marian smiled as he tried to protest, "You are as stubborn as each other."

The door flew open, revealing a very out of breath Bull, "Robin!" He tried to draw himself up, holding a stitch in his side. Azeem could be seen, hovering curiously behind; apparently Bull had stopped for nothing.

"What's happened?" Robin stood, Marian by his side.

Bull shook his head, face grim, "Mansfield is packing up. He's moving into Nottingham. He's got far more men than we thought he did. Men are moving across the Shire, and through the Forest. We've been tracking them - small retainers of all the nearby lords and barons. They're gathering at Nottingham."

"_What?_ Why? I thought the situation was too unsteady for them to trust Mansfield yet!"

Bull shrugged, "He's taken over Nottingham Castle with men, and is heading there now himself. Apparently he's called the noblemen to council. We don't know why."

Marian sighed, "He means to rally the people of Nottinghamshire to a march on London; if he cannot take power by marriage, then he will take it by force. The common people are easy to blame if things go wrong; expendable."

"Yeah, well he needs to persuade them first." Robin spoke with certainty, "And after the Sheriff, they won't be too co-operative."

Bull cast his eyes down, "That's the thing, Rob; I think they will. Mansfield has got something he's hiding, something that's tipped the balance, forcing him to act."

Robin ran a hand through his hair, "This has got so big."

Marian laid a hand on his arm, "But our purpose hasn't changed. Gather the people, all who will stand on our side. We have to head to Nottingham, show the people that King Richard is what is best for this country, and what kind of a man Mansfield really is."

Bull nodded, and turned to leave, when Robin called out, "Wait! Have you seen Will since yesterday morning?"

Bull frowned, shaking his head, "He never came our way. You mean he hasn't returned?"

Robin's throat tightened with worry, "Then where the hell is he?"

"I'm sure he is safe Robin."

"No. I'm afraid he's not." They turned to see Fanny stepping through the door that led to the kitchens and the back exit of the grounds. All of them looked at her face, set in grim lines, and knew that whatever news she bore, it was not going to be good. "I met with Wulf this morning on the ridge to get his news. Seems that late last night, some of Mansfield's men came knocking, bringing with them a prisoner who was taken to the cellars. He said that all the servants were buzzing with curiosity, and then got word from one of the serving boys who had been in the room with Mansfield and the men. He said that they spoke of leverage against Robin Hood, and persuasion for the barons. It's Will, Robin, they talked about the youngest son of Locksley. I'm sorry."

The silence hung oppressively in the air, until Azeem, who had kept quiet until then, spoke in a deceptively calm voice, "How did the man find out about their blood relation?"

Fanny shook her head, unable to give them an answer. Robin could hear his blood roaring in his ears, not remembering being this angry since he had sworn to avenge his father. But then he swallowed it down; focus, not anger had helped him save Marian from the Sheriff. When he spoke, his voice was cold, "Why are you still standing there, Bull? We need to move. Now."

The people dispersed, leaving only Robin and Azeem standing in the room. Robin took a calming breath before he spoke, "You have no debt or honour to hold towards me, Azeem. You should return home to your own lands, this is no quarrel of yours."

Azeem smiled softly, "If I was going to leave, then I would have done so already, Christian. You think I came here by mistake? Allah guided me here, and I will not abandon you or your brother."

"Thanks you, my friend."

Azeem nodded, "Come, today this truly ends."

* * *

Men had come. At least, he thought they had, he hadn't been too coherent at the time, and all he could truly register was pain, tiredness, and a strange sense of the world spinning too fast to be real. All he knew for sure was that he had been sitting in...that room...and then he had been moving, hands had been on him, until he hit something hard, rolled, and come to a dazed stop. As he tried to sort his mind against the juddering, jerky movement of the room he was now in, Will could tell threat his wrists had been tied in front of him with rope. He tried to sit up, but a particularly violent jolt sent him to the rough wooden floor once more.

Summoning up the only thing that could keep him going despite his physical state – his stubbornness – Will blinked until he could focus enough to see small slits of light merged within the blurry darkness. After concentrating, he realised that the light was coming through gaps between the rough planks of wood, and as another violent jolt threw his damaged body sideways, he began to realise that he was in a moving carriage of some sort, roughly hewn, and likely one of those used to transport outlaws before the Sheriff's demise. If Will had the strength, he would have appreciated the irony.

He listened intently, trying to gain an idea as to why he was in this new situation. As he listened, he began to realise that he was not in the only wagon on the road. Too many hoof beats, too many voices. He caught snatches of conversation; they were headed to Nottingham, Mansfield was to take up a place in Nottingham Castle to rally the Northern lords for a march on London. Will swallowed thickly; how had this all gotten so big? It hadn't even been a year, and the orphaned petty thief he had once been was now the brother of the only person standing between the King's throne and Mansfield, and somehow he had become directly entangled.

Will's fists clenched reflexively. There was no good to come from wondering how things had reached the point they were at. That would not help Robin, or the people of Nottingham. Mansfield wanted to use him for something, for what Will had no idea, but he wound not just sit passively and let it happen. As the carriage gave another jolt, Will felt his nerves scream with pain, but he tried to push it to the back of his mind. He was tired beyond what he had thought was humanly possible, and his body felt like it had been trampled by an army of horses, but he had to trust that everything would be okay. When Robin had first come to Sherwood, Will had refused to believe what he had seen as empty lies, but Robin had been true to his word, and the Sheriff was no more. All Will had to do was hold on.

A shout rang through the air, and with one last jolt, Will was thrown into the wall once again as the convoy came to a halt. Scrambling to a better position, Will edged towards to door. He heard a scraping as someone unlocked to padlock that kept him from escaping. Throwing caution – and pain – to the winds, Will leapt forwards, kicking the door open, catching the soldier off guard. He hit the ground hard, stumbling and lacking balance from his bound hands and injuries. Almost blindly, while dimly recognising he was in Nottingham, Will darted away. A hue and cry was raised amongst the soldiers, but no longer was he a boy who had stolen a piece of bread from the market; the stakes were now so, so much bigger.

A gloved hand managed to catch his leg in a desperate attempt to catch him, and he crashed to the ground. The soldier was on him in an instant, landing a vengeful punch to Will's jaw, causing his head to spin. Much stronger arms wrapped around his waist, hauling him up, but he continued to kick and struggle until what little energy he had left was spent. Another soldier, presumably a superior, approached, his scowl dark, "Quick little thing, ain't he? See to it that he doesn't try anything else, or I'll see to it that your neck stretches." Will glared up coldly at the man, trying to ignore the sweat and blood covered hair that fell into his eyes. Will almost gagged as the soldier in charge bent to hiss in his ear, the putrid breath only adding weight to the words, "When this is done, once Mansfield has finished with you, we're gonna have a talk, you and I, all private like. Think on that, boy."

The man drew himself up, signalling for the soldier to take Will away. The younger man felt the strong hands grip hard on his arms, half-pulling, half-dragging him towards Nottingham Castle. Never before in Will's life had he so fervently wished not to be alone.

To Be Continued...

Author Notes: I know it might not seem like it, but events are drawing to a close - there is hope for the heroes! Please let me know what you thought!


	17. China Dolls

Author Notes: Meep...Sorry this took so long! Only 3 more chapters at the most after this one, so they're getting easier to write. Thanks for all the continued support you've all given me, and just to warn you, this chapter is once again very dark (but as that seemed to go down well last time, I don't know why I'm giving this warning :P) and contains general creepiness.

Chapter 16: China Dolls

"My lord, everyone is in their places." Mansfield's personal servant bowed as he entered his master's new chambers, "The people are gathered in the courtyard, and the nobles are seated in the hall, awaiting your presence."

Mansfield allowed himself a small smile. So this was where the former Sheriff of Nottingham had met his end; what a fool to think he could win it with a woman instead of strength of men and arms. The man had been an incompetent idiot, failing to use what could best have gained him victory; Mansfield would not make that mistake. He was under no illusion that Robin would fail to turn up today – indeed, that was part of his plan. If he obtained the men he hoped to, Hood's death would be swift and the people were too impressionable to think to join the man. He turned to the servant, "Have Atford prepare the prisoner for presentation before us within the hour. I shall receive the lords."

The servant bowed low once more, and backed out of the room. He walked swiftly towards the new barracks of Mansfield's retainers, preferring to spend as little time as possible there. He met with the lieutenant of the men, Atford, and passed on his lord's instruction. He tried to ignore the disgusting leer that grew in the man's eyes as the message was understood, and scurried away.

Will huddled the corner of the dank cell, nearby screams of pain bringing back unwanted memories of the last time he was here. He curled his bare toes against the rough stone; the first thing the jailer had done was take his boots, likely intending on making some money from their sale. Footsteps echoed in the confined space as booted feet purposefully thudded down the stone steps. Will's blood froze as he saw the man from earlier, accompanied by two more soldiers. The man nodded to the jailor, who smiled a yellow smile, and unlocked the iron bar door, the elicited creak grating on Will's already shredded nerves.

"Get up." Will simply stared stubbornly back, unmoving from his corner. Atford rolled his eyes, gesturing lazily to his men, who strode forwards and dragged Will to his feet. He walked forwards languidly until he was towering over Will with that disgusting breath of his clogging the air. He drew his knife from his belt and pressed the cool metal of it against Will's cheek, "Are you scared, boy? Because I would be, with what Mansfield's got planned for you." He removed the knife, and then handed it to one of his men.

Will was roughly manhandled, and the soldier cut away his shirt and the tattered remains of the bandages underneath. He couldn't help the gasp of pain that escaped him as a gloved hand gripped his side to stop him from struggling. The knife was handed back to Atford, who used it to cut the bonds on Will's wrists, letting the blood encrusted rope fall away to the floor. He waved his hand, and Will was thrown roughly to land at his feet, shivering, scared and humiliated, but still defiant. The two soldiers moved away from him, but any thought of escape was quickly quashed by the jailer in the doorway and the knife still prevalent in the man's hand. Suddenly, Will was drenched in ice cold water that stole away his breath. One of the soldiers gave a cruel laugh, "Doubt anything could wash the dirt of that little shit – them lot are born dirty."

Will struggled to draw breath, fighting against the pain and the cold, and then with the stomach-clenching panic that came with Atford's command to leave them. The soldiers and the jailer gave him a sharp nod, before retreating.

Atford crouched down, taking Will's bruised jaw in his gloveless hand, forcing him to look up, "Look at you, the disgusting little wretch who would be the son of a lord. You don't actually think that _'brother' _of yours will come, do you? You are all alone here, no one to save you." He trailed his dirt caked nails sharply down Will's cheek to his throat, allowing his grip to tighten ever so slightly, eliciting a panicked half-cry from the previously tight-lipped Will. He smiled as hazel-green eyes opened to meet him, transmitting untold feelings of hate and defiance. He released his grip, letting Will fall forwards on his hands, coughing violently as he struggled to draw breath, his small frame heaving. Atford rose to his feet, picking up something from a table outside the cell. For a moment, Will expected to feel the lash fall like last time, but instead, he was hauled to his feet, his shoulders jammed at an unnatural angle as metal shackles were clamped painfully tight over his already shredded wrists. The man pulled, causing Will's back to be pressed up against the chainmail of the man's chest. He couldn't stop the shaking that seemed to have taken over his body as the man pressed his lips to Will's ear, "Pity Mansfield's got plans for you – I could use a pretty-boy like you."

Will had to bite down hard on his tongue to keep the man from the pleasure of hearing a reaction to those last words. Everything was spiralling down, further and further away from any hope. He tried to shut out Atford's words, repeating the same mantra in his head: _Robin will come_. When it became clear he would get no reaction from Will, the man kicked at his heels, forcing him to move forwards, "Time to meet your betters."

* * *

Robin and his men ghosted between the crowds. Mansfield was sloppier than the Sheriff had been; a markedly smaller number of soldiers guarding the entrance to Nottingham, and a surprisingly small amount around the castle. As they talked to the people of the city, they learned Mansfield had announced that something would be happening at sunset in the courtyard which would be of interest to all men. Azeem crouched down beside Robin who was hidden behind the tanner's stall. "I do not like this; it is too easy."

Robin shook his head, "You fret too much, friend. Nottingham is in tatters compared to what it was under the Sheriff – we can use this disarray to our advantage."

Azeem shook his head, "I do not think that is the case. From what I have heard, this man is no fool."

"People's mouths form larger lies when they are scared."

"And nobles' mouths avoid the truth in an attempt to dull their worry." Robin glared at him, so Azeem changed the subject, "The Friar and Bull have placed a barrel of black powder at the gatehouse – it will cause maximum confusion if it appears that we need to get into the castle."

Robin nodded, "Good."

"He will be fine; the boy is strong."

"But will that be enough?"

Azeem hit Robin upside the head, "Stop that, self pity will help no man. Besides, that boy put up with your whining and only tried to kill you once; I would say that is strength enough." His words had the desired effect as Robin's face tugged into a half-smile, and they began the wait for sunset.

* * *

Mansfield prowled amongst the seated noblemen, "And so, dear friends, with the men we have, and the impressionable populous, we could take London by the end of the month."

A white haired, ring encrusted man shifted in his seat, "That's what the Sheriff promised – Hood is still alive, how would you intend to deal with that problem. The son of Locksley is too loyal to the King to not try and stop us, and he has the peasants' support."

"Besides," A younger baron spoke, his clear, challenging voice cutting through the heady atmosphere, "How do we know you will not just bring us into ruin? I have my lands to think of; perhaps Locksley and the King are a better bet?"

Mansfield smiled, "I was wondering who would bring up that...problematic subject."

The man did not look impressed, "Well?"

"Bring him in!" Mansfield's voice rang through the hall, and the heavy oaken doors were swung open, revealing a soldier practically dragging a prisoner. He dumped him in the middle of the circle of men before retreating respectfully to the outskirts. Will winced, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor, unwilling to provoke any of the nobles. His arms ached from the position they were held in, and his legs had given up halfway to the hall. The hairs on the back his neck stood up as his skin crawled; not from the cold against his exposed skin, but the presence at his back.

"What is the meaning of this?" The younger baron leaned forwards in his seat, more curious than angry, unspoken incredulously laughter lacing his tone.

A gloved hand gripped Will's hair, pulling his head up. He gritted his teeth as Mansfield announced his identity to the noblemen, "This is William. Address your lords, William." Will kept his mouth clamped firmly shut; if he couldn't stare at the floor, then he would burn a hole in the ceiling, _Robin will come_. Mansfield sighed dramatically, releasing his hold and gesturing to Atford, who stepped forwards more than willingly. It took three lashes before Will made a sound; a strangled cry that turned into a half-choked sob. He tried to make himself as small was possible with the manacles keeping his arms pulled back. He didn't want to think how weak he looked before these rich men. Mansfield began circling him, addressing the nobles, "This _mongrel_, is the youngest son of the late Lord Locksley and a village whore, half-brother to Hood."

A shocked murmuring spread like wildfire throughout the room, "Are you sure?"

"It is certain. And Hood knows the truth, doesn't he William?" Will tried to force himself to block out the cold voice as it echoed around his head, "But unlike any other self-respecting nobleman of ancient blood, when he discovered the truth, Hood embraced his new _brother_; he did not put him out of his miserable existence as is right. Would you still follow Hood now?"

The noblemen all looked at the huddled figure at Mansfield's feet. And they began to nod. "We should begin to make preparations. What of the boy?"

Mansfield smiled, "He will be hanged tonight, as a symbol of our resolve to the peasantry." He moved around to face Will, who looked up at him, hatred burning in his eyes. He spat on the man's robes. Mansfield sighed, delicately brushing at the velvet, "Even after all that you are has been laid bare for the world to see, you are still too simple-minded to grasp the reality of the natural order of life."

Their eyes held contact for a moment more, before Atford came up behind and struck Will across the temple. His exhausted mind and body immediately welcomed the darkness.

To Be Continued...

Author Notes: So, what do you think? Poor Will!


	18. Colours of the Dying Light

Author Notes: What's this? An update? It can't be! I hope you guys enjoy this, and I have to say I was overwhelmed by the response, especially the threats of bodily harm towards the less...nice...characters :D

Chapter 17: Colours of the Dying Light

Marian paced her rooms frantically. Robin had, in a few more words, forbade her to come to Nottingham with them. In her heart, she could understand where his reasoning lay, and if she was really honest with herself, she did not know how she would react being that close to the place where her fate had almost been sealed by a hateful marriage. Nevertheless, that did not stop her fuming, jealously guiding her thoughts as Fanny and some other women had left with the men, their actions unhindered by position. Underneath it all, of course, lay unquenchable worry, for both Robin and his younger brother, a man with whom she had developed a strong friendship with in their months of forced confinement courteous of Robin Hood. She could see much of Robin in him, hidden under a multitude of layers created by his unkind formative years, every now and again surfacing when he allowed himself to relax. If they lost Will, she knew it would hurt Robin as much as when he had found his father at Locksley Castle; those years in the Holy Lands had taught the once spoilt, selfish boy just how much family and friends should be fought for, far above any desire for land, money or power. The death of his last family member would only serve to add to the nightmares that already haunted him.

There was a knock on her door, jerking Marian out of her thoughts. Out of habit, she smoothed her dress with her hands and cleared her throat, "Come!"

The door was gently swung open, to reveal her handmaiden Sarah standing in the doorway, "Begging your pardon, my lady, but there is a man waiting for you in the entrance hall. He says he has an urgent message for you alone."

Marian's eyes widened, "Does he say who it is from, does he bear the surcoat of anyone you know?"

"No ma'am, I thought he was a beggar on first glance, and would not have believed his words had it not been for the quality of his horse."

Marian nodded. As a precaution, she picked up a dagger and held it behind her back; while she knew that Sarah would have placed some of the remaining woodsman in the shadows of the hall, she did not like to feel exposed. Gathering her thoughts, she made her way to the hall.

The messenger turned as she glided into the hall, and bowed low, "Am I to presume I am talking to the Lady Marian?"

Marian nodded, taking in the man's appearance. He was clearly a man of strength, but his clothes were torn and old, and his eyes were older than his years. She noticed a sword and scabbard placed on a table in an alcove; he had clearly come to Nottingham prepared, "I am she."

He looked grim, but also visibly relieved, "I bear a message from King Richard, and was instructed for it to be for you, and you alone."

"Where is it?"

The man shook his head, "It was deemed of too delicate a message to be put to paper." He dug his hand into a small leather pouch, and produced a large wax seal – the seal of the King, "I was to give you this to prove the truth of my words."

Marian examined the seal – it was indeed the emblem of her cousin. Fear coiled in her stomach, her mind speculating over all the possible messages that could be delivered. "What is your message?"

The man nodded, "I ride ahead of the King. He received your letter and immediately knew his kingdom was at risk. He and his personal guard should be landing before the new moon."

"But that's over two weeks away! And it will take him time to get here! We don't have that long! Mansfield will have taken London by then!"

Marian had to give the man credit; he did not even flinch at her words, merely frowning in thought, "You mentioned in your letter to the King that Lord Robin of Locksley is fighting in his name. As such, the King sends him a gift, and hopes that Lord Locksley will take up position as sheriff of Nottingham as a way of keeping peace before his return." He bent to the floor, extracting a bundle of cloth from a bag. As he unfolded it, Marian's eyes registered what it was. The King's standard. Flown only by the King's personal guard or at his homes of residence. Regardless of the people's opinion of Robin, and despite all the words that Mansfield had spun to them, if they could somehow use this banner to convince the people that their King had not abandoned them, and that Robin was in the right, they could avoid a lot of death – goodness knows these people had seen enough already.

She glanced out of the window. Already, the sun was staining the sky with blood as it sank away, escaping the forsaken night. Sunset was almost upon them. Her face set into an impassive mask. "How fast can you ride?"

"My lady?"

"I need to get to Nottingham."

* * *

"People of Nottingham. _My _people!" Mansfield's voice carried over the silent crowds. He stood, not on the balcony where the Sheriff had felt his last morning, but on a raised wooden platform, on which a single noose swung lightly in the swirling breeze. "Tonight, you must free yourselves from the old regime – it is time to shirk off the fool's leadership of our cowardly King. I will lead you into a new age."

A murmuring spread through the gathered people. A lone voice yelled out, "We want Robin Hood! Not some stinkin' rich man like _you!_"

Mansfield smiled. Robin, who was hidden behind an empty market stall, shivered. There was something about that smirk that reminded him all too much of the Sheriff. "I was concerned that your simple peasant minds would be unable to grasp the concept of what a wonderful opportunity this presents for you." He clapped his hands once, and suddenly the edges of the courtyard filled with soldiers, all bearing a myriad of different coats of arms. At the balcony above, noblemen from all over the northern counties could be seen looking down on them. "Let me make myself clear. Under the new regime, you will know your place, and your betters will support you as such. You will not go hungry."

Wulf stood near the fore of the crowd, his quick, young mind translating the snake's words into their truth, "And what exactly will our _place _be?"

"You will be tied to your lords, as is right. He will make sure you come to no harm."

"And you would be King while we lose our freedom!" Wulf yelled back, cutting across him, "You are not King Richard!"

Mansfield sighed, "You would do well to hold your tongue boy, before you lose it. Nevertheless, my people, he is correct, I am not our _dear _King Richard. But then, he has abandoned you, has he not? He left you to the likes of the late Sheriff, the tyrant that he was."

The whispers got louder. Robin grimaced; John had been right, the people were tired of being second to a Crusade in a land they had little or no true concept of. One of his men in the crowd yelled out, "Robin Hood hasn't abandoned us!"

And suddenly the murmuring turned away from Mansfield's favour, spurred by his own rekindling of the topic of the dead Sheriff. For one wonderful moment, Robin had seen a way out that could have ended with very little loss of life. If only the people of Nottingham, who were still a far greater number than the guards, had stayed firm. But that was all shattered once more by Mansfield's smile. "Hood hasn't abandoned you? Is that so?" His mocking tone brought silence once more to the crowd, his eyes dancing with the reflected red glow of the dying sun, "Bring him!"

The doors were opened, and a wretched figure was all but dragged out of the Castle by a burley soldier. "By Allah..." Azeem cursed softly beside Robin as their eyes fell on Will. He reached out a gripped Robin's arm as the other man instinctively made to rise.

Will struggled desperately against Atford, but he could barely lift his head, let alone throw off a seasoned soldier. He was barely aware of his surroundings, only that he was stumbling up rough wooden steps, his bare feet tripping over each other as he tried to remember coordination. _Robin will come_. He hadn't even realised he had said those words out loud in a whisper of a breath until Atford leaned in and hissed, "Don't bet on it, boy. No one's here for save you, just to watch you stretch." A hand ghosted across Will's bare torso, eliciting a choked gasp from the younger man, who let his head drop forwards, his straggly hair falling to hide any tears that might escape. He couldn't deal with this anymore. Too much had happened in such a short amount of time, and while Mansfield brought back nightmares of old, and Atford presented new ones.

Dimly, he registered Mansfield presenting his identity to the crowd, making his point clear, "If your precious Hood will not even bother to try and save his own blood, then what makes you think he will not abandon you?"

_No._ Will squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out reality, _Robin will come. He has _not_ abandoned me._

Suddenly, he was shoved forwards, and his senses snapped back into focus. Shadows danced across the crowd as the people were bathed in black and blood. His torn and battered skin was cast into an eerie orange glow, rivers and valleys showing in sharp relief. He felt his grip on reality slide as the sun's dying glow cast everything into a surreal quality. A pain at his wrists indicated the manacles were being removed, and he nearly fell forwards into the crowd as the sudden change of position threw him off balance. The hand against his stomach once more made him want to vomit, but he doubted he had anything left in his stomach anyway.

"You see?" Mansfield was saying, his black velvet robes shimmering in the dimming light, casting the rest of them into a dull shadow with their torn and dirty rags, "Hood may as well be back in the Holy Lands for all the help he will give you. Any man who is simple enough to believe in him will only end up the same way as young William here. I hope that my point is made absolute to you all."

A steady beating matched in with the thudding of Robin's heart as drums merged in with the rhythmic clashing of sword against shield from the soldiers, filling the courtyard with a thrumming designed to intimidate and control. Robin felt an intense sense of déjà vu as a different man in black robes spoke falsehoods to the crowd, as his little brother was once more forced towards his death. His fist closed tightly around the hilt of his sword when he heard Mansfield's slimy voice speak out his brother's full name, Azeem still a solid presence at his side, "How can we fix this?"

Azeem shook his head, "I think all we can hope for now is to save Will and fight another day. We cannot win today – that man has poisoned their minds with false promises."

Robin clenched his teeth, mind frantically trying to conjure a skeleton of a plan. Hearing Azeem of all people suggest they give up, that all they can do is save Will, the rest of Nottingham be damned, was frightening. Nevertheless, he could not help but agree – his first priority was to get Will the hell out of here. "We need that distraction." Azeem nodded and slipped away.

Robin looked up at the glowing embers spun into the blanket of oncoming dusk. The drumming thudded through the air, pulsing under his skin. Will was forced towards a stool by the man who kept such a tight grip on him, when a cry sounded in the crowd. Suddenly, the drumming was being drowned out as a clamour of people strained to look upwards where a lone banner flew from the castle battlements, rippling in such a way that the dying light appeared to set it aflame. It was the King's colours, flying from Nottingham.

Mansfield called for silence above the crowd, Will momentarily forgotten. "They are false! The King does not return!" But even Will could detect a note of uncertainty in his voice.

"Wrong!" A clear, high voice sliced through the air. Standing on the battlements where not so long ago John and Fanny Little had sat waiting for the opportunity to save their son, was the Lady Marian. "People of Nottingham, this man is a fraud! He would tell you lies of your King in a hope to gain your support so that he may gain power from your suffering. Your King is returning! But you are wrong to think that you need him. What you lack, my friends, is a fair and just man to protect you, and while you may think that with the Sheriff and this man you have not been fairly dealt, you have in fact been under the protection of one all along! Robin Hood fights for you in the name of King Richard! In the name of peace and justice! Would you take this old rich man in his stead?"

Silence reigned over the Castle. Mansfield seemed to be in a temporary state of shock, and so it was one of the noblemen safe in their balcony who yelled in kind, "But where is this Hood? The coward has hidden!"

As if taking those words as an unspoken cue, Robin and his men removed their hoods and produced their weapons, a renewed hope glowing within the crowds, "In the name of King Richard and the people of Nottingham, disarm your men and step down from your position of honour." Robin's voice carried across the people.

In that moment, Mansfield knew that he had lost, and yet that did not leave him with the desire to simply give up and be charged with treason. "Guards! Kill him!"

From Will's position higher up, he could quite honestly say what happened next must have been a slice of hell. Bathed in red and black, the people came alive, shouting, screaming; some soldiers had put down their weapons, knowing all too well what had happened last time, but were still leapt upon. Faces became distorted masks of gold and charcoal, and Will started to sway as the noise began to fade in and out with the flickering of the growing dusk. He was sure someone said something in his ear, hot breath encircling his neck while an arm around his waist began to pull him roughly backwards. But then a dull whistling and a crunching thud rang too close to him, and suddenly the grip was loosened as he was dragged backwards with a wrenching dead weight.

He came to his senses enough to recognise Atford's glassy eyes staring up at him, and he scrambled away, the roughly hewn wood of the platform clawing at his palms. Instinct screamed at him, until it finally had enough and took over, causing his hand to snatch a knife from the dead man's belt. He stumbled to his feet, and all but fell off the platform in a tangle of limbs as he collided with another clad all in black and death. He couldn't be certain, but he thought he heard someone yell his name from far away, a kind, gentle voice that had echoed clear not so long ago, now distorted by fear. He righted himself, coming face to face with the eyes of his childhood's nightmare, the only unchanging thing in the decaying shell of flesh and bone.

A final flash of silver shone in a false gold as the sun fell behind the horizon, unable to remain in the day for one moment longer, but the red lingered over Will, sluggishly staining his skin as the people were submerged in the shadow of the oncoming darkness.

To Be Continued...

Author Notes: Evil? Me? Don't talk rubbish! :P I'd love to hear what you think!


	19. Eternal Night, Breaking Dawn

Author Notes: Thanks so much for the reviews, and Pog Mahon, I'm glad you like the chapter titles; sometimes I think I spend as much time agonising over them as the actual plotline! I think you'll like the outcome of this, it's only a shame they didn't have ski poles in medieval England... I thought I'd update rather quicker than normal considering the cliffhanger. Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter 18: Eternal Night, Breaking Dawn

Robin lost sight of Will as soon as Mansfield tried to call the guards into action, swept away in the surging of the crowds. Frustrated, and while he tried not to admit it, panicked, Robin swung himself up onto the empty market stall so as to gain a better vantage point. What he saw made his blood boil. Chaos reigned over the sea of people, guards getting over powered by peasants sick of oppression, while up on the balcony, the would be noblemen fled once more. But it was on the platform where the three figures Robin was most interested in could be seen. Mansfield blended in with the growing dusk, but the guard who had been keeping an eye on Will wore chainmail that caught the last red afterglow of the sunset. Robin watched as the burly man suddenly grabbed his younger brother around the waist, who seemed to have finally run out of any fight. His stomach lurched as he realised the man was taking Will away, dragging back towards the steps, and before he knew it, he had nocked a single arrow and sent it flying, straight into the man's thick neck. He didn't even register how dangerous of a shot it could have been, that close to Will, because he had known he would make it.

Both men fell in a heap, the soldier gurgling blood, and Robin once more lost sight of Will. A pulling at his belt from Azeem made him jump back down as they began to fight their way through the muddled crush of soldiers and people. Suddenly, a high voice carried across the crowds from above, laced in fear as its owner watched on, unable to act, "No! Will!" It was Marian.

Robin's heart leapt to his throat, and he and Azeem gave one last push through the confused people. He levered himself up onto the platform, but found it empty. For a moment he was confused, when, "Christian!" Azeem jumped down from the platform on the other side, next to two unmoving forms.

"Will!" Robin jumped down, dropping to his knees next to his brother, who stared glassy eyed at the choking, writhing form of Mansfield, who lay under Azeem's shadow, a knife protruding from his chest, "Will?" He ignored the dying man coldly, focusing on the younger man. Will didn't respond, simply remaining staring at the man, his small frame shivering from something more than the growing cold.

Azeem bent to one knee, wrenching the knife out of Mansfield's chest, the man crying out in mortal pain which could only fall on deaf ears. Blood flooded his lungs, throat and mouth, snaking down his face through his whitened hair, until he finally drew one last shuddering breath and lay still, leaving one hell for another. The painted man watched with growing concern as Robin tried to elicit some response from his shivering brother. In one smooth motion, he grasped Robin's shoulder firmly, "I will look after him. You must speak to the people before they tear each other apart." Robin made to protest furiously, but Azeem cut him off, his ever-calm persona forcing his point, "You are the only one they will all listen to. He will be safe with me, I swear it."

Helplessly, Robin was forced to nod and agree, placing a light kiss in his brother's hair before rising and swinging himself up onto the platform. Will remained staring at the corpse before him, but Azeem doubted whether that was what he was truly seeing. While he knew Will needed Robin right now, he also knew that the man needed to calm down first, and project that onto the crowds before all order was lost for good. He dimly heard Robin calling for people to listen to him, but instead focused on the small figure before him. He shirked off his heavier woollen blue cloak, and swiftly wrapped it around the shaking form in an attempt to restore some warmth to the body, "Come, _Nima_, it is time to go." Gently, but forcefully, Azeem pulled Will to his feet, making sure he had a firm hold on him as he began to sway, his unseeing gaze not fully registering the man next to him. It was as if Will had gone away, leaving an empty shell behind.

The crowds were calming down, beginning to cheer for Robin, King Richard and the expected peace that would hopefully now shroud Nottingham. Many began to disperse, feeling safe in the knowledge that Robin protected their interests and the evil was gone – dead or fled. As far as they were concerned, all was right with the world, but for Robin and his close friends, they knew it would be a long road before they could recover. Azeem felt a presence at his shoulder; it was Bull, and an old woman whom he did not recognise, "This is Violet. She's a wise woman from around here, and says we can take Will to her house. She has herbs and stuff."

Azeem regarded Bull and the newcomer with scrutiny, before nodding, understanding. They could not afford to leave Nottingham until Robin was officially made temporary sheriff in the morning, but until that time, it would do Will no good to be inside these forsaken walls. As they began moving, Robin seemed to materialise on Will's other side, gently looping his arm around the small of his brother's back, allowing him to lean on him as well as Azeem. Will did not seem to notice, only putting one foot in front of the other, stumbling every few steps. Azeem nodded appreciatively - no more was Robin as rash and quick to anger as he had once been; he understood the need for silence, and dare he even think it, he was becoming a far more wise man, more than just a responsible leader.

Through the course of their short walk, their little procession was joined by close friends, Marian and a member of the King's entourage included, each receiving instructions from Robin before disappearing into the night. Marian remained with them, instructing the messenger to carry the news of success to the arriving King. When they reached the old woman's little house, she first directed the two brothers to a makeshift bed, and then disappeared to rummage around some shelves, Azeem following her while Marian was recruited by Fanny to help her find and make something simple for them all to eat.

Robin gently lowered his brother to sit down, smiling sadly when Will leaned into him further as he sat down next to him. The hero of them all was at a complete loss. As far as he was concerned, he should be ecstatic; Mansfield was dead, Nottingham safe, the King was returning, and Will was back with them. And yet, all was not well, not entirely. He wasn't even sure if Will knew he had killed Mansfield, and he fervently wished it had been him to stop that vile man breathing.

Will was still wrapped tightly in Azeem's cloak, his fingers unconsciously knotting and weaving through the fabric. And then, "You came."

Robin almost jumped out of his skin; already attuned to the background noises of the hut, and not expecting the rough, choked whisper that had escaped his brother, "What?" He suddenly couldn't get anymore words out than that, confused by what Will had said, but overjoyed to see that he knew where he was, and who he was with.

"You came. He said you wouldn't." Will elaborated in the same soft voice. "I'm glad you did."

Robin sighed, resting his chin on Will's head as once again he found his relatively new little brother bury his face into his shoulder, "I'm glad too. You're family – never believe that I won't come for you. You are not alone."

Will smiled wearily, allowing his eyes to drift shut as he felt safe for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, "'S nice to know." The murmur was nearly lost in the folds of cloak as he fell into sleep.

Robin smirked at the comment that sounded just that little bit like the Will he knew, but this was quickly replaced by worry as he realised his brother had fallen limp against his shoulder. This was quickly cut short by the old woman, "Let him rest, dear, God knows he needs it. We'll wake him up in an hour or so to get some food down him, and then we'll see about patching him up. But from what your Moor friend tells me, he has had worse."

Robin nodded, smiling guiltily at how quickly his now familiar protective instinct had surfaced; he supposed he should get used to it, as something told him that Will's knack for attracting trouble was not going to end any time soon. Gently, he lay his brother down, making sure he was covered with the cloak. Marian came to stand by his side, smiling fondly at the now peaceful form, "This might all just be over you know."

Robin pulled a crooked smile, automatically looping an arm around her waist, "Thank you for today."

"Oh, well, I do what I must for my country." She sighed dramatically, and then giggled softly, breathing in the soothing atmosphere. Robin smiled, it was hard to believe that after all this time, it was almost over. He felt like everything had been constantly on the move since before the Crusades, and that now the war, for him at least, might just be good and done. They spent all night talking, checking up on Will, people coming and going, and before they knew it, a new dawn was rising, the yellow morning glow bathing the town in what seemed to the eyes of all like spun gold. A new beginning indeed.

They sat as a group in the tiny hut, eating a breakfast that John had brought them. Will was content to listen to the talk, framed by his brother on one side, and Azeem on the other. He felt better, safer, that he could not deny. But this time, unlike with the Sheriff, who had been black and white, with no shades of grey, he had much more to think about with Mansfield, and of course not forgetting Atford. He shivered slightly at the thought of that man, his skin crawling with all the possibilities of what could have happened if Robin had indeed not come. Fanny caught the movement, but he smiled softly in return, as if it had just been a draft from the door.

It was nice to have some sense of normality again. Azeem was quietly talking with the wise woman about the herbs and remedies that she knew, comparing them with ones of his homeland. Fanny, John and Bull sat opposite, having a very large argument about Bull's questionable antics with the woman of their camp. Both John and Bull were losing spectacularly, which had to make Will grin.

He took a drink from a water skin brought by Bull earlier that morning, turning his attention to Robin and Marian, forcing himself to suppress both a smirk and a laugh. Once again, they were dancing around each other with words, both spoken and those left unsaid. He rolled his eyes. This was getting ridiculous. There was no reason why dead men like the Sheriff and Mansfield should have this much pull over the living. Just because bad things had happened to them, it did not mean that good things were impossible. "For God's sake, Robin, just ask the girl to marry you already! If you two keep this up for any longer I'll go insane!"

It was said in such a loud, exasperated fashion that all of the inhabitants of the hut had to stop and stare. Robin looked flabbergasted, his mouth hanging open in a pure expression of shock and incredulity. Everyone else was trying desperately to keep a straight face as Will's clear hazel eyes stared defiantly at his older brother, in every way like the Will Scarlett they knew, and not the quiet boy they had been worriedly watching move gingerly about the tiny house. Marian burst out laughing, her glittering eyes skimming between the pair. Robin finally managed to choke out some words, "I'm sorry, _what?_"

Will smirked back, finding it simpler to just return the stare. It was Marian who broke the brothers' stalemate, "Well, Lord Locksley? Am I to understand you have something to ask me?"

Robin turned his utterly stunned expression to the noblewoman next to him, before he too broke into a grin that matched those worn by the little group, answering defensively, "I do _not_ like it when you two unite against me!"

Fanny snorted, "Get used to it. Now ask the damn question you stupid man!"

As Robin continued to stammer and stutter away, Will smiled softly, content once more to listen.

To Be Continued...

Author Notes: What's this? _Not _a cliffhanger? Be proud. I should have the very very LAST chapter up by Monday, as I don't want to keep you waiting. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter, and the final demise of the two characters...

'Nima' means blessing in Arabic.


	20. Epilogue

Author Notes: This is the end! I know I said this would be up yesterday, but in all honesty, I forgot. Special thanks to Pog Mahon for your amazing reviews, and imaginative death scenarios and threats. I hope you all enjoy the ending!

Epilogue

They were back where they belonged. Where they all _truly _belonged. Will could not even remember the last time he had been able to think that. He picked tentatively at the new clothes Robin had given him to wear for the wedding, unable to quell the feeling of self consciousness. Gently, Azeem stopped him, giving him 'the look', and they returned to watch the ceremony.

The day was surreal, autumn painting their forest with a myriad of warming colours. Everyone had smiles on their faces, and for the first time in a long, long while, everyone was content. Everyone was safe. Marian looked beautiful, while Robin just looked deliriously happy while Friar Tuck recited the ceremony in their woodland chapel. Will smiled softly at his brother's expression.

Tuck smiled, coming to the end of his little book. Will had honestly had no idea weddings were this long, and did not pity the Friar one bit, "With the power vested in me, by God's holy church, I say let any man who has reason why these two should not be joined, let him speak now or forever hold his peace." Marian and Robin grinned. Will raised an eyebrow; considering how long it had taken them to get to this point, he'd bloody well hope not. "Then I now pronounce you-"

"Hold! I speak!" A strong voice rang through the forest, and Will had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Bloody typical. And then he tensed, gentle hoof beats thudding through the forest as the unknown speaker and other men came into view. One of the younger men seemed oddly familiar, but he could not place him.

"Richard!" Marian's voice held joy as King Richard dismounted and approached her.

Will did not bother to keep the absolute shock from his face, while whispers ran throughout the gathering, "It's the King!" Half still in shock, they all went to their knees, respectfully bowing their heads as the man passed. Only Marian and Azeem remained on their feet, and Will had to hide a smirk at the man's courage; as if he didn't stand out enough already.

"I will not allow this wedding to proceed."

Confusion rippled through the crowd, and Robin even stood up without instruction to rise. Will winced; he was pretty certain that was one big blunders you should _never_ do in front of a king, "My lord!"

"Unless," He held his hand up, eyes dancing, "I am allowed to give the bride away. You look radiant, cousin."

Will smiled in relief as the King embraced the beautiful noblewoman, who acted as if she was used to this kind of thing, and took it all in her stride, as clapping rippled through the glade, "Oh, Richard!"

Robin, meanwhile, looked thoroughly relieved, but nevertheless acted like any good nobleman should, "We are deeply honoured, your Majesty."

The King smiled fondly, "It is I who am honoured, Lord Locksley. Thanks to you, I still have the throne." He nodded to Tuck, who was still kneeling, "Friar, proceed!"

Tuck came to himself with a "My liege..." and rose in time with the rest of the gathering who, although thrown slightly by this new turn of events, accepted it nonetheless. The Friar cleared his throat, and then continued from where he had left off, "...Husband, and wife! You may kiss the bride."

Robin smiled cheekily, "I know that!" Will resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Robin followed through with his comment, but soon found himself caught up in the joy of the crowds, cheering and clapping with the rest of them. He grinned at Azeem, who smiled in kind and embraced the younger man.

Doves were released and escaped into the air with their new found freedom, and an almost unfamiliar feeling of happiness coursed through the people. Will smiled, catching Robin's eye as the newly married man clasped an arm around his wife, and faced the King once more. All of a sudden, Will felt out of place, disjointed from the world around him. His brother was a true nobleman, married to the King's cousin - the King who was at their wedding! An overwhelming suffocating feeling surrounded him, and he quickly felt the need to get away. Azeem had been accosted by Tuck, and so did not see the youngest Locksley slip away from the crowds.

Night fell quickly, the night darker from the new moon, but the sky still alight with the fires burning in the nearby camp. He stepped surely, yet aimlessly, through Sherwood, and it was not until he dragged himself out of his flickering thoughts that he recognised where he was. He gave the trickling water a crooked smile, "Back again..." he murmured.

He stood on the bank of the pool, letting the rushing of the waterfall soak into the sounds of the forest. "Will?"

He jumped, dislodging some dirt into the water, causing his dim reflection to skip and dance. He smiled softly, "Shouldn't you be enjoying too much beer right now? I didn't think Marian controlled you that much already, but I see now that I was clearly mistaken."

Robin smiled in return, but did not rise to the friendly bait, or the attempt at a change in topic. "Where did you go after the wedding? We missed you. I had to ask Azeem where you might be."

"I don't like big celebrations like that." He tried not to grimace at the memory of the last one, where Fanny had almost died, "Besides, the King would have made me nervous."

Robin laughed, coming to stand next to his brother, "King Richard is staying in Nottingham tonight. Tomorrow, Marian and I will go and talk to him about the state of the country. "

Will snorted, "You'll be living in London by the end of the week."

Robin shuddered, "Not likely – Marian hates it for a start." Will smiled again, allowing the momentary silence to wash over him once more. Robin sighed, "I love this place."

Will nodded, "Me too."

Robin grinned knowingly; it was not too long ago that they would have done anything to disagree. "Come on. You can brave a few hours of a drunken Friar, can't you?" He threw his arms around his brother's shoulders, leading him away from the secluded place.

It was time to truly stand still. To finally stop running. Stop fighting.

Because for the first time in Will's life, there was nothing to run from.

**FIN**

Author Notes: -sniff- It's the end! Ho upsetting. Thank you to EVERYONE who read and/or reviewed this story! Your support is really appreciated. I'd love it if you could take the time to write just one more comment of this ending, or the story as a whole, and thanks!


End file.
